


All was Definitely Not Well

by TomHRichardson



Series: Harry's Fortieth Birthday [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Ginny Weasley Bashing, Molly Weasley Bashing, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Ron Weasley Bashing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2020-12-07 18:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20980658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomHRichardson/pseuds/TomHRichardson
Summary: 4 September, 2017: It has been nineteen years and some months since the Battle of Hogwarts; and three days since Hermione and her husband Ron boarded two of their children onto the Hogwarts Express. In darkness, Hermione now wakens from a sound sleep, suffering a fierce headache, body aches all over, and many confused thoughts.The reason for Hermione’s miseries: Potions that for the past twenty years have Confunded the thoughts of the former “brightest witch of her age”—those potions all are wearing off.This is a post-Epilogue H/Hr story that bashes Molly Weasley, Ron Weasley and Ginny Weasley (Potter).





	1. Hermione Weasley Feels Strange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last four paragraphs of the much-discussed Epilogue to HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS—
> 
> _“[Albus Severus will] be all right,” murmured Ginny._
> 
> _As Harry looked at her, he lowered his hand absentmindedly and touched the lightning scar on his forehead._
> 
> _“I know he will.”_
> 
> _The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years. All was well._

**Around 4 a.m.  
Monday, 4th September 2017**

For Hermione Weasley, the 37-year-old loving wife of Ronald Weasley, all was definitely not well.

She had gone to bed feeling oddly. Now, hours later, she actually was blasted awake by a splitting headache, and last night’s strange feelings in Hermione’s body had turned into full-body muscle aches.

Her plan, as she slipped out of bed, was to seek out a headache potion in the bathroom, then to sleep on the couch. (Ron’s snoring was loud enough that Hermione knew that going back to sleep in the mage-sized bed, tonight, would be impossible.)

Hermione’s plan lasted only until she had taken three steps toward the bathroom. While walking, Hermione discovered that even her toes and feet had muscle-aches. Not to mention—

_Ron cheated on the driving test, I know he did! Why did I lie to Harry that I had faith that Ron had passed the test honestly?_

—Not to mention, strange thoughts were popping into Hermione’s head.

_Molly Weasley pretends to be the perfect mother, but in truth she’s nothing of the sort._

Now Hermione recalled a maths problem that had stumped her in her seventh-year arithmancy class. The oddest thing was not that Hermione was recalling this old maths problem, years later; no, the oddest thing was that now Hermione could see the way to work the old problem, when she couldn’t before. _Hit that git with the Chain Rule, and the solution is almost trivial_.

Hermione had a torturous headache, muscle aches, strange thoughts—she concluded, _I’m feverish. It’s probably a nasty muggle flu. I need medical help_.

Hermione’s first impulse was to floo to Saint Mungo’s, and the Healers there could fix Hermione up, sure. There was only one problem with sick Hermione going to Saint Mungo’s: She was forever part of the Golden Trio, the three friends who had defeated Voldemort in 1998. In 2017, Hermione was, to quote Ron from three days ago, “extremely famous.” She had _no_ doubt whatsoever that if she received treatment at Saint Mungo’s this morning, a write-up about her visit would appear in tomorrow’s _Daily Prophet_, “patient confidentiality” be damned.

Hermione’s next idea was, _Maybe I could catch Luna before she goes to work?_ The Hogwarts Hospital Wing had two Healers working there now, trading shifts; this meant there was a fifty-fifty chance that Healer Luna Longbottom was not on duty yet, till after breakfast in Hogwarts Castle.

And speaking of Luna—was feverish Hermione hearing Luna’s voice _now_, at 4:09 in the morning, coming out of the floo? Hermione pulled on a sleeping robe over her nightgown, grabbed her wand, then walked out of the bedroom to solve this minor mystery.

As Hermione walked through the bedrooms-corridor on her way to the floo, she got another out-of-the-blue thought: _Ron has worse table manners than a starved werewolf_.

****

“Hermione. Hermione,” Luna was fire-calling from Ron’s and Hermione’s floo—but Luna was speaking quietly, so as not to wake Ron or Hugo.

When Hermione got close to the floo, she asked, “What are you doing awake, Luna, and fire-calling me _now?_”

Luna replied, in her dreamy voice, “You need a Healer now, right?” Then Luna’s tone of voice turned formal: “Regent Longbottom permits you to enter Longbottom Manor.”

Hermione marvelled, “_Merlin_, Luna, you already know I’ve the flu? You _are_ a seer, aren’t you?”

Then Hermione told Luna, “I need to tell Ron that he has to fix breakfast for Hugo, then Ron needs to floo Hugo to school. I’ll get dressed, then I’ll come through. Figure five minutes. _Thank you_, Luna.”

****

**In the dark master bedroom**

Hermione woke up _sonorus_-snoring Ron to tell him, “I’m really sick, it’s probably the flu, and Luna has offered to check me out.”

Ron said, “Why are you bothering with Loony? Go to Saint Mungo’s, and you’ll get your name in the _Prophet_.”

Hermione had to work hard to stay silent, and to _not_ call Ron a glory-hound idiot. Hermione now believed, as Harry had believed twenty years ago, that being famous was a right bloody nuisance more often than not.

Ron asked his wife, “You going to be back in time for breakfast?”

Hermione replied, “Not sure. If worse comes to worse, you’ll have to wake up in time to fix breakfast for Hugo and to take him to school.”

“_Fine_,” Ron snapped, “but just so you know: _Mum_ never made Dad make breakfast for us kids.”

Hermione thought, but did not say, _And I would _never_ humiliate Rose at Hogwarts by owling her a Howler. Yet how many times did I see Percy, the twins, Ginny, and you get screamed-at in the Great Hall by Molly? Your mother is no paragon, Ronald Bilius._

****

**One minute later  
In Longbottom Manor**

As Hermione stepped through the floo, another random thought jumped into her head: _There is a reason that Harry outranks Ron now_.

In 1999, both Harry and Ron had graduated from Auror School at the same time, as newly-minted Aurors Second Class. Ron had actually been promoted first—the excuse given had been that Ron’s skill at chess meant he had more potential for improvising tactics in the field. But the _real_ reason, so Hermione now realised, that Ron had been promoted to Auror First Class before Harry was that Ron had been a pureblood; while Harry, for all his fame and achievements, had been “only” a halfblood. But Ron had never been promoted again, while Harry was now a Master Auror. Furthermore, the rumour that Hermione kept hearing was that when the Ministry someday needed a new Director of Magical Law Enforcement, Harry would be a shoo-in for this job. Whereas Ron, that chocolate-frog-chomping lazybones, might eventually reach retirement age and still be ranked as only an Auror First.

Hermione received a surprise as soon as she entered the Floo Room of Longbottom Manor. Standing next to Luna—who looked disgustingly alert and cheerful at four in the morning—was Luna’s husband Neville. Now Neville’s back straightened, he locked eyes with Hermione, and his tone of voice turned formal—

“Mrs. Hermione Granger Weasley, I, Regent Longbottom, bid you welcome to Longbottom Manor. I grant you the sanctuary of this manor for as long as you feel you need it.”

Hermione was more than confused; she stared at Neville. Right now, Neville should be sleeping in his professor’s quarters, somewhere in Hogwarts Castle, instead of being awake in Longbottom Manor and greeting Hermione with such unexpected _and formal_ words.

Hermione decided that both Longbottoms were acting _quite_ strangely, considering that Hermione had almost the same symptoms as a bad case of the muggle flu. Muggle flu was unpleasant, yes, but it was nothing for magicals to take special note of.

A thought hit Hermione’s mind: _Do Luna and Neville know something I don’t?_


	2. Hermione’s Medical Exam

Hermione said to Neville, “Thanks for letting me come here; I really was dreading the media circus that a visit to Saint Mungo’s would bring. How are you, Neville?”

He replied, “I’m fine, but now I’m too sleepy to socialise. Also, I’m keeping Luna from examining you. So goodnight.”

Neville turned to Luna and gave her a peck on the lips. He told her, “Wake me at seven or when you need Regent Longbottom again, whichever happens first.”

Neville turned back to Hermione, gave her a smile and a wave, then walked out of the Floo Room.

Meanwhile, Luna had pulled her wand out, and was transfiguring the Floo Room’s coffee table. Luna made the table taller, longer, wider, and made of stainless steel. Then she pointed her wand at a quill-and-parchment combination that had been laying on the Floo Room couch. The parchment and quill both rose to chest-height, and the quill moved so that it was hovering over the floating parchment.

Luna looked at Hermione, then chin-pointed to the examination table. “Hop on, and let’s see what is wrong with you.”

As Hermione laid down on the table, she said, “Luna, I suspect you already think you know what’s wrong with me—and it’s not the flu.”

Luna neither agreed nor disagreed with Hermione’s words. Instead, the blond Healer pointed her wand at Hermione’s stomach. A pale-orange beam from Luna’s wand hit Hermione’s stomach; then the beam took a crazy bounce and moved across the room to hit the quill, which briefly glowed orange.

Luna said formally, “I am examining Mrs. Hermione Weasley on 4th September, 2017. Mrs. Weasley, what are your medical complaints? How are you sick or injured?”

Hermione replied, “I have a splitting headache, all my muscles ache, and I have been having strange thoughts since I woke up today at 4 a.m. I think I’m feverish, which makes me think I have the flu.”

Luna continued her formal voice: “Mrs. Weasley, during my examination, you might feel strange sensations inside your body: parts of your body tingling or vibrating, or feeling hot, cold or numb. You might feel brief pain. These sensations are normal. Also, I will ask you questions, some of which might sound odd. Please answer my questions completely and honestly, even the odd questions. I need your complete and honest answers in order to make a more accurate diagnosis and to better plan your treatment. Do you have any questions?”

Hermione laughed—“I’m the ‘brightest witch of her age’ ”—then Hermione choked. Blushing with embarrassment, she said, “No questions, Luna.”

As Luna started her wand-waving over Hermione’s body, Hermione was frowning. _I was about to joke “I’m the ‘brightest witch of her age’—I always have questions!” But that “brightest witch” part isn’t true anymore, is it? Oh, George hires me sometimes as a runes consultant for Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, and when my children need homework help, they come to me instead of asking Ron. But _everyone_ sees me as only a slightly smarter copy of Molly, no swot at all, and it’s been twenty years since my brains dazzled people. Where did my smartness go? And why is it only _now_ that I notice that for a long while, I _wasn’t_ the brightest witch in the room?_

Luna said, “For the record, please state your age, and how many children you’ve birthed.”

“I’m thirty-seven, but I’m two weeks away from turning thirty-eight. I’ve birthed two children and have suffered two miscarriages.”

Seconds later, Luna remarked, while still waving her wand about, “It’s been three days since the end of your menstrual cycle. You will ovulate in twelve days.”

Hermione said, “_That’s_ useful to know.”

Luna said, “You don’t have a contraceptive charm in place.” She looked at Hermione with a raised eyebrow.

“I’ve birthed only two children, and Ron wants more. Ergo, no charm.”

Luna frowned. “If the expectant mother is in her late thirties, this can create medical problems for the foetus.”

Hermione shrugged. “Ron is my husband, and he works hard. He deserves as many children as I can give him.” But even as Hermione was saying those words, she could not shake the thought, _What I just said is wrong, wrong, wrong, and my fifth-year self would lecture me till midnight about this_.

Neither Luna nor Hermione spoke for ten minutes, as Luna continued her work. Then Luna asked, “In your childhood and young adulthood, whom have you hated?”

Hermione remembered that Luna had warned her to expect odd questions. So instead of remarking on the oddness of the question, Hermione answered it: “There were some kids in my primary school who bullied me, and I hated them for this. Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson at Hogwarts, for the same reason. Some Slytherin upper-years, whose names I’ve forgotten but who hexed me.”

“What about Harry?” Luna asked. “During my fifth year, your sixth year, you acted _horrid_ whenever he was near you.”

“I didn’t _hate_ Harry then,” Hermione said. “But he was _constantly_ doing stuff to annoy me, plus he kept showing off with that potions book of his.”

“I see,” Luna said in a neutral voice.

“Oh, I’d had a schoolgirl crush on Harry since first year, but five years later, I grew up. Sixth year, I realised I had a lot more in common with Ron than with Harry.”

“I see.”

Luna wand-waved for a few seconds, then she asked, “What do you think of Harry _now?_”

Hermione answered, “I like him now, because he’s not an annoying git anymore. He’s a friend.”

“But not,” Luna asked tonelessly, “a _good_ friend? Someone you owl regularly to say _Let’s meet somewhere for tea_.”

“Harry’s a friend,” Hermione repeated. “But I’m not any closer to him now than I am to, say, George Weasley. Or to Neville.”

“I see,” Luna said tonelessly. Then Luna asked, “If I asked you a month ago whom you were most loyal to, whom would you have said?”

“_A month ago_, whom was I loyal to? That’s a _really_ oddball question.”

“Yes it is, but I need for you to answer.”

Hermione thought about the question. “A month ago, I would have said the Weasley family. They’re great people, and _so many times_ since I got married, I would think to myself, ‘I’m so lucky to be related to these people.’ ”

“You’re more loyal to the Weasley family than to your own parents?”

“My parents are great people—for muggles. But I’m magical, the Weasleys are magical, but my parents are muggles.” Hermione shrugged. “Plus for some reason, my parents _can’t stand_ Ron, which makes me question their judgment.”

Luna said, “A month ago, how would you have replied if I had asked you _Why are you with Ron?_”

“Back then, I would have told you it’s because the perfect husband needs to be a genius at chess, have a healthy appetite, be interested in Quidditch, and realise that life is more than studying and libraries. Ron is all of these things.”

“I see,” Luna said in a flat voice.

Then Luna switched to her formal voice: “I’ve finished my ‘one month ago’ questions. Now I will ask you about your thoughts and attitudes now. Right now, as you lie on this table, what do you think of Ron?”

“Luna, it’s weird, I think that the flu’s fever is cooking my brain. Getting dressed to come here, I was thinking thoughts about Ron and Molly that I haven’t thought since my fifth year.”

“Oh? What kind of thoughts?”

“Annoyance. Disapproval. _Strong_ dislike, at times. When Ron suggested that I not talk to ‘Loony,’ but instead I go to Saint Mungo’s because then I’d get my name in the newspaper, I wanted to _slap_ him.”

Luna asked, “What do you think of Arthur Weasley?”

“Officially he’s Head of House, but he sure does not _act_ like it! You watch him and his wife for any length of time, and you’re sure it’s _Molly_ wearing the ‘Weasley’ ring. And while magicals think Arthur is an expert on muggles, in truth he’s _painfully_ ignorant of the nonmagical world; and he treats muggle-borns and muggle-raised people like we’re performing poodles. I like Arthur, but I don’t respect him.”

“I see,” said Luna. She turned, and her wand fired a pale-orange beam at the quill; the quill froze in place. “Hermione, I’ve diagnosed your complaints. Let me tell you what I’ve found is wrong with you.”

****

**One second later**

Hermione could not begin to guess what Luna was about to say. Hermione was pretty sure that Luna did not think Hermione had the flu; else why had Luna asked Hermione what she thought of Arthur Weasley?

Luna said to Hermione, “First of all, you don’t have a fever. Your body temperature is 37.0 degrees” (98.6°F).

Then Luna stared into Hermione’s eyes and said, “Here it is, straight: You’ve been potioned.” Hermione gasped. “Now you carry a tiny bit of residue from a Hatred potion, which tells me that you were not given the Hatred potion for more than a year, and that you were given the Hatred potion between fifteen and twenty years ago.”

Hermione stared at Luna. “By your questions earlier, it’s obvious you think I was potioned to hate Harry.”

Luna nodded, then continued—

“Right now, you have, in your body and brain, the dregs of Loyalty, Love, and Indifference potions. The first two potions are at about 3-percent strength now, and the Indifference potion is at 54-percent strength. Based on your answers to my questions, I think that your potioned loyalty is to the Weasley family, your potioned love is for Ron, and your potioned indifference is to Harry.”

Hermione, who _never_ used foul language, said, “Those _wankers!_ Those redheaded, inbred, two-faced, bloody _rapists!_ Those foul, loathsome, evil, cockroach _tossers!_ Curse Ron, and curse Molly too.”

Luna said, “So many potions, for so long, not only changed your thinking, but they slowed down your brain. The bad news is that you were stupider a month ago than you once were, back before you were potioned; the good news is, you’re smarter now than you were a month ago.”

Hermione said, “I want to hit Ron’s neck with a thousand underpowered Cutting Curses. I want my execution to take a while to cut off Ron’s head, and he feels every cut. Or how about this: Ron and Molly, both of them wandless, are locked in a bathroom with a troll?”

Luna did not react to Hermione’s anger. Instead, Luna said calmly, “You have much, much potion-residue for Love, Loyalty and Indifference in your body and brain—about twenty years’ worth. So much potion-residue in your body tells me that for the past twenty years, you’ve been potioned continuously.”

“Until now,” Hermione said. Then she laughed scornfully. “My lazy, lazy husband—he finally decided it was too much work to slip me the potions before those potions wore off. Or maybe he thought the potion-bottles were potatoes, so he ate them!”

Hermione looked at Luna. “_Please_, how do we fix this?”

Luna replied, “Two words: ‘purging potion.’ Then when you’re back on your feet, two nutrient potions.”

Hermione’s face went white. A purging potion removed every trace of every other potion from a person’s body—but the process was not gentle. Vomiting and explosive diarrhoea were destined for Hermione’s near future.

Luna continued, “The good news is that if you take the purging potion now, the worst of the effects will be over by five this afternoon. You won’t be happy then, but no longer will you be chained to the bathroom. You could even receive visitors this evening. Such as, for instance, speaking purely hypothetically now, Master Auror Harry Potter.”

Hermione gasped. “Luna, if Ron has potioned me, Ginny _certainly_ has potioned Harry! You and I need to save Harry!”

Hermione added, “For one thing, you just told me that prolonged exposure to these potions makes a brain turn stupid. Honestly, how else to explain Harry naming his son ‘Albus Severus’?”


	3. Floo Calls

**A little after 3 p.m.  
Hogwarts**

Professor Longbottom finished his last class of the day, and walked from the greenhouse.

Once he was back at his office in Hogwarts Castle, he found three first-years waiting for him. They had questions about the essay homework from their first-ever Herbology class.

When the last firstie left, Professor Longbottom scribbled a quick note on a foot of papyrus: _Gone home for the day. I’m helping out a friend who’s sick. I’ll be back tomorrow_. Professor Longbottom sticky-charmed the note to his office door, magically locked the office door, then hurried to the Hospital Wing.

Once Professor Longbottom was in the infirmary, he quickly noted that he saw no sign of Healer Smith. The only patient at the time, Heather Zabini a third-year Hufflepuff, looked asleep. So Professor Longbottom grabbed the elbow of the on-duty Healer, Luna Longbottom, and dragged Healer Longbottom into the Healers’ office—

—where Neville proceeded to snog Luna senseless.

Luna eventually broke the kisses, giggling. She looked at Neville with a raised eyebrow, as she patted her desk meaningfully. “Do you feel up to—?”

Neville replied, “Yes, I do—_Oh_, how I do!—but I really should head over to the Manor soon. Hermione might be needing me now—for sympathy, if nothing else.” By now, Hermione’s purging potion would have been making gastrointestinal mischief for hours.

Luna was no longer smiling. “If at all possible, try to get Harry to come over to the Manor tonight, so I can examine him as well. Barnard”—Healer Smith—“already has offered to cover my shift for a few hours.”

“Is examining Harry tonight _this_ important?”

Luna nodded. “Once Ginny finds out that Hermione has been de-potioned, she’ll want to henpeck Harry from here to Dover, to make sure he never comes _within a mile_ of any purging potion.”

A minute later, Neville flooed from Hogwarts’s Hospital Wing to Longbottom Manor—where Professor Longbottom became Regent Longbottom.

****

Neville walked to the Manor bedroom that was Hermione’s temporary sickroom, then he knocked on the hallway door.

No answer.

Neville walked in.

On a table by the bed, he noticed a glass of water that was nearly empty; and an empty purging-potion bottle, tipped over. The door to the bathroom was halfway open, and Neville heard the sound of retching coming from the bathroom. As Neville walked up to the bathroom door, he smelled vomit and diarrhoea-shit.

Neville stood at the bathroom door so that he could not see Hermione in the bathroom, and she could not see him. He called out, “Hermione, it’s Neville. How are you feeling?”

_Ra-al-alf!_

Hermione weakly replied, “The good news is, my headache is getting better and my mind is clearing up. The bad news is, I’ve been causing lots of _disgusting_ work for Greenstalk,” Longbottom Manor’s head elf. “The _really_ bad news is, I’ve figured out that I need to write a _mea culpa, mea maxima culpa_ letter to my parents. I’m dreading writing it.”

“Surely they won’t blame you for anything you’ve said or done while under the potions.”

“I wish, Nev. They easily could decide the potions are just a wild excuse that I’ve made up. Between my obliviating my parents’ memories without their permission, and me acting like a _right bitch_ once I gave them their memories back, the beautiful relationship that I once had with my parents has gone pear-shaped.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Tell me about it. It might happen that after I write them a long, heartfelt letter, they write back with ‘Yeah, whatever.’ ”

“Why do you say you were a ‘right bitch’ to your parents?”

“I want to discuss this with Luna, the next time I see her, but what happened was this: At Hogwarts, the purebloods went around spouting ideas of ‘Magical people are better people, while nonmagicals are just dancing monkeys that can talk.’ I _hated_ hearing that; I got in _shouting matches_ with Draco and Pansy, defending my muggle parents. However, by the time I married Ron, I preferred the company of the Weasley family to the company of my parents—”

“Because of the Loyalty potion.”

“Right. But it seems that the potion forced my brain to come up with a ‘logical’ explanation why I preferred the Weasleys. Well, my potion-cooked brain decided that the reason why I preferred the redheads was that my parents, as much as I loved them, were muggles, therefore _Untermenschen_. Anyway, once my brain was potion-cooked, my relationship with my mum and dad went south. My parents quickly picked up that I was ashamed of them, which they _didn’t_ like. Plus, they _loathed_ Ron. They’ve asked me at least a dozen times, ‘Why didn’t you marry Harry instead?’ ”

Neville asked, “How have you answered that question?”

“When I told my mum and dad, ‘Harry and I aren’t close anymore,’ they responded with ‘What did you do to ruin things?’ ” Hermione sighed.

Neville paused, as he chose his words carefully. Then he said, “If Harry has been potioned, and if he takes the purging potion, and if he then magically divorces Ginny, and if you magically divorce Ron, then you and Harry can become man and wife.”

The conversation was briefly put on hold while Hermione puked into the toilet again. Then she said, “Those are quite a lot of _if_s, Nev.” She did not sound hopeful.

****

**Five minutes later**

Neville had written a note. Now he told his house elf Chilly to deliver the note to Harry Potter—

_Please come to Longbottom Manor as soon as you can. It’s important news about Hermione. But this is important: Don’t tell _anyone_ where you’re going, especially Ginny or Molly_.

****

Master Auror Harry Potter was holding a meeting with three of his subordinates when an elf popped in and handed him a note.

Harry read the note. He was frowning as he shoved the note into a pocket of his Auror robes.

****

**About 4:30 p.m.**  
**Broom Moving-Violations Section**  
**Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Ministry of Magic**

Auror First Class Ronald Bilius Weasley was sitting at his desk, writing up citations for speed-happy wizardlings on brooms, when his boss walked up to him. “Personal floo-call for you at Floo 35. Don’t talk too long.”

The floo-caller turned out to be a woman whom Ron had never seen before. She said, “Mr. Weasley, I’m with Godric Gryffindor Primary School. School ended a half-hour ago, but your wife has not come by to pick up Hugo.”

“She hasn’t? Bloody hell, I guess she was sicker than I thought. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Ron’s boss, Peter Parkinson the slimy snake, couldn’t very well refuse to give Ron time off for a family emergency, but he _did_ manage to look grumpy about it.

Seconds later, Ron was standing in the office of Godric Gryffindor Primary School. Waiting for Ron was the floo-call woman who was in her fifties, and also Hugo. Hugo’s first words to Ron were “What’s wrong with Mum?”

Ron replied, “Let’s get you home, then I’ll find out.”

Ron and Hugo flooed back to their tiny house, with its tiny front and back gardens. (_It’s not fair_, Ron thought yet again. _Harry Potter gets a big, fine mansion just because of who his father was, while I’m stuck with _this shack.)

While Hugo pulled out a snack from the coldbox, Ron made floo-calls to Saint Mungo’s, trying to find out what was happening with his wife. This morning, Ron had told Hermione to go to Saint Mungo’s, so he took for granted that Saint Mungo’s was where Hermione was at now.

Fifteen minutes later, Ron’s ears were red, he had made that _bint_ Welcome Witch cry, and Ron had _only now_ found out that Hermione had not set foot in Saint Mungo’s all day. Why hadn’t those lazy slackers have told this to Ron fifteen minutes ago, instead of wasting his time?

Next, Ron played a long shot and floo-called the Hogwarts Hospital Wing, because Loony worked there and because Hermione and Loony were friends. The conversation did not go well—

“Oi, Loony, it’s Ron. Do you know where Hermy is? She thought she had the flu this morning, and she said she intended to talk to you.”

Loony’s voice was _not_ dreamy now; she snapped, “My name is _Luna_, as you well know, and your wife has told you _many_ times in my hearing that she dislikes the name _Hermy_. Should I call you _ickle Ronniekins_?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Are you going to tell me where Hermy is?”

“She isn’t here, Ronald, nor has she been here since my birthday. This infirmary is for _students_, and you know how Hermione feels about following rules.”

“I noticed what you _didn’t_ say: that you don’t know where Hermy is. So where _is_ she?”

“She is,” Luna paused, “not here. As I just told you.”

“Loony, you’re holding out on me, not answering my question that I have a _right to know_ the answer to, as Hermy’s husband.”

“I’m not going to answer that question to _you_, because you’re infested with wrackspurts,” Loony said dreamily. “Goodbye, Ronald.”

****

Next, Ron floo-called the New Burrow, and talked to his mother.

Molly told Ron that Hermione had neither floo-called the New Burrow nor visited there, anytime today.

Ron was just about to end the floo-call when Molly asked him, “When was the last time you slipped Hermione the three potions?”

Ron’s blood ran cold. “Sometime before Harry’s birthday,” he answered. Meaning, sometime before 31st July—over five weeks ago.

“ARE YOU DAFT? ARE YOU MENTAL? THAT IS _WAY_ TOO LONG BETWEEN DOSINGS! ONE MONTH BETWEEN DOSINGS IS THE _ABSOLUTE MAXIMUM!_ THE POTIONS MIGHT BE WEARING OFF NOW—AND AFTER TWENTY YEARS OF DOSINGS, THOSE POTIONS WEARING OFF WILL MAKE HER SICK ENOUGH FOR OTHER PEOPLE TO NOTICE! YOU BETTER FIND HERMIONE _RIGHT NOW_ AND DOSE HER UP GOOD!”

“But Mum, I don’t know where Hermy _is_. I only know where Hermy _isn’t_.”

“HAVE YOU LOOKED FOR HER, _REALLY_ LOOKED? OR HAVE YOU BEEN LAZY? YOU NEED TO FIND HERMIONE _NOW!_”

****

Ron’s ears were ringing when he ended the floo-call with his mother.

Ron recalled that Hermione did consulting work, in Ancient Runes, Arithmancy and Charms, for Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes. So Ron floo-called his brother George, just in case George knew where Hermione was.

No, George told Ron, he had no idea where Hermione was at.

Ron grumbled.

After ending the floo-call with George, Ron thought back over his conversation with Loony, and he realised that Loony had diverted the conversation. Ron floo-called Longbottom Manor, expecting to speak to a house elf.

****

At first, Ron _did_ speak with a house elf—who answered no questions about Hermione. But the house elf promised to notify his master about the floo-call.

Ron knew the talk would not be easy when the squib walked up to the fireplace—Neville was wearing his Regent robes.

“Hello, Ron,” Neville said calmly. Neville’s face gave nothing away.

“Is Hermy here?” Ron demanded.

“Ron, you know better than I do, how much _Hermione_ hates that name.”

“You’re dodging my question, squib.”

“You noticed. Which proves that you’re not stupid, just lazy.”

“Answer my question, squib!”

“Still with the cheap insults? I haven’t been a ‘squib’ since I got a wand that worked, Ron.”

“_Answer my question: Is Hermy over there?_”

“Your ears are turning red, Ron. Are you about to throw a temper tantrum? It won’t work. The days when I or anyone else have to _placate_ you are over.”

“ ‘Placate’? Are you trying to show off with your big words?”

“Merlin, how did Hermione ever marry someone as _ignorant_ as you?” Neville asked. Then he looked into Ron’s eyes and added, “She must have been _potioned_.”

_Show no fear_, Ron thought. “Is Hermione there? I’m coming through if she’s there!”

Neville’s laugh was cruel. “You’re not coming through this floo unless _I_ let you pass, and that isn’t happening. But yes, Hermione is here.” Neville again looked into Ron’s eyes and said, “Your wife is in one of my bedrooms, suffering the effects of a _purging potion_.”

Ron choked; he knew his secret would be out soon if he didn’t act in time.

Neville said cheerfully, “But don’t worry, when Hermione stops puking and shitting, her brain will be in tip-top shape.”

“I demand that you let me see her! I’m an Auror, I can _make_ you let me in.”

“Ha. Your job nowadays is to hand out speeding tickets to wizarding children who go too fast on their brooms in crowded areas. The _only_ reasons you have even _this_ job, instead of the DMLE sacking you, is because A, you’re a pureblood, and B, you’re part of the ‘Golden Trio.’ You’ve been passed-over for promotion several times. I hear you have no friends, inside or outside the DMLE, except for Harry Potter—and _that_ friendship is iffy. So you really claim you can get any paperwork okayed to let you stroll into the home of the Regent of an Ancient and Noble House? Ha. You might as well tell me Harry put his own name in the Goblet of Fire.”

“You _have to_ let me in your house, squib, if Hermy is there. I’m her husband.”

“Her husband only because you _love-potioned_ her,” Neville snapped. “Else she’d be _Lady Potter_ now.”

Ron felt raw panic.

Neville continued, “Lucky for you that it _isn’t illegal_ to potion a muggle-born, or right now you’d be viewing a DMLE holding cell from the _inside_.”

“Dammit, Nev, I _demand_—”

“We’re done,” Neville stated. He ended the floo-call.

****

**6:22 p.m.**

Harry was finally finished with the day’s work.

For the past hour and a half, Ginny had been leaving “Floo-call me” messages, but those messages did not say what Harry’s floo-call with Ginny would be _about_. Those messages probably were not urgent, whereas Neville’s note about Hermione probably _was_ urgent, since Nev had elf-mailed the note instead of owling it.

As a Master Auror, Harry rated an office with its own floo fireplace. He floo-called Neville before he called Ginny.

As soon as the pleasantries were done, Neville said, “Harry, you’re needed here at Longbottom Manor. Hermione is here sick, and both she and I need to talk to you.”

Harry said, “Sure. Not a problem.”

“But like I said in the note, tell _nobody_ about you coming here tonight, and bring _nobody_ with you. In particular, _don’t_ tell Ron, Ginny or Molly Weasley.”

Harry said, “But I _have to_ tell them! Ron is my best mate, and he’ll be worried about his wife. Ginny is my wife—I love her, I trust her, and she and Hermione are friends. Molly is like a mother to me.”

Neville said, “_No_. I won’t let them in. When you come, the floo will lock up if any of them try to come with you.”

Harry said, “Nev, if you’re forcing me to make a choice, the truth is that I love Ginny much more than I love Hermione. Look, I have complete confidence in Ginny, so I don’t understand why you're being mean to her.”

Neville said, “Harry, do you remember all those times in the Great Hall when you’d complain about Snape’s favouritism and bullying? Dumbledore’s reply _always_ was ‘I have complete confidence in Professor Snape.’ ”

“You’re implying that Ginny has some great fault, and I’m too blind to see it?”

“Exactly.”

Harry sighed. “Fine, I’ll come to your Manor now, and I won’t tell anyone where I’m going. But for the record, I’m sure you’re wrong about Ginny.”

****

After Harry ended the floo-call with Neville, Harry floo-called Ginny. Harry did not tell Ginny where he was going, saying only that “Hermione is sick, and I’m about to visit her.”

Ginny all but ordered Harry to skip the visit, and if the visit were to be with anyone other than Hermione, Harry would have submitted. But while Harry and Hermione were no longer close, they had gone through so much danger together that Harry felt he owed Hermione this courtesy.

Besides, Harry had loved her once.


	4. She’s a Granger Again

**Two minutes later**

Thirty-seven-year-old Harry Potter had changed from his red Auror robes into muggle clothing, and had tried to comb his unruly hair, then he flooed to Longbottom Manor.

Seconds later, Harry was standing with his back to the floo chimney, and was exchanging handshakes and verbal greetings with Neville. Harry heard the fireplace roar behind him, then Luna’s voice said dreamily, “Hello, Harry, you will be glad you came here this evening.”

Harry turned and hugged Luna, saying, “You have great timing—I walked through the floo only seconds ago.”

“I know,” Luna said.

“You do?”

Neville laughed. “She’s a seer, remember?”

Harry slapped his forehead. Then he asked, “How are you, Luna?”

Luna replied, “I want to chat small-talk with you, but you _really_ need to talk to Hermione now, Harry Potter.”

Neville said, “I’ll lead the way.”

The walk to Hermione’s guest bedroom was not long, but for Harry, the walk was frustrating. Neither Neville nor Luna would tell Harry what was wrong with Hermione.

****

**Soon afterwards, in Hermione’s guest bedroom**

Hermione was sitting at a table, with an inkwell, a quill and several feet of written-up parchment in front of her. Harry caught the words “Dear Mum and Dad” at the very top. Meanwhile, the bathroom door was fully open; and the _reek_ in the bedroom told Harry that the bathroom had been used often. Also, Harry noted that the chair on which Hermione sat was pulled back, and Hermione was sitting on the edge of the seat cushion; this way, Hermione could quickly flee both table and chair when she felt the need to dash to the bathroom.

“How are you, Hermione?” Harry asked. “What’s up?”

Hermione gave the three adults a lopsided grin. “Today I’ve given a new meaning to SPEW—I’ve been _spewing_ since before sunrise. Neville, what’s the etiquette for apologising to your house elves for creating _disgusting_ extra work for them?”

Neville said, “There isn’t any formal etiquette, not really, but I’ll tell my elves you appreciate their service.”

As Hermione smiled at Neville, Harry said, “It sounds like you had a touch of stomach flu, but now you’re better.”

Harry saw Hermione exchange looks with both Luna and Neville. Then Hermione replied to Harry, “Actually, my gastrointestinal adventures have been because I drank a purging potion this morning. Which I drank because I’ve been _potioned_, Harry, for the past twenty years—”

“_Potioned?_”

“Hate, Love, Loyalty and Indifference potions. I’m sure Ron is the perpetrator and Molly is the brewer.”

Harry was stunned—he had so many contradictory thoughts and feelings right at this moment.

Hermione’s eyes bored into Harry’s. “And I’d bet _both of my vaults_, Harry, that _you’ve_ been potioned too.”

“Indeed he has been,” Luna said. Harry noticed that Luna was waving her wand at him, with wand-movements that Madam Pomfrey had made so familiar.

“You lot,” Harry said to the other three people in the room, “actually think Ginny and Molly have been slipping me potions?” Harry was _hoping_, he was _begging_ somebody to tell him _You’re worried over nothing. The situation isn’t as bad as you think_.

Luna said, “I can’t give an _official_ opinion yet over who’s potioned you, but right now you’ve got six potions in you—”

“_Six?_” yelled Hermione.

“—with residue from a seventh.”

Harry gasped; Hermione muttered.

Neville said, “Considering that you’re the beringed Head of an Ancient and Noble House, Harry, if one of those potions in you is a Love potion, everyone involved in potioning you has committed Line Theft.” Which, Harry knew, meant that the convicted witch would be held in Azkaban Wizards’ Prison till she dropped dead.

****

“What is Line Theft?” Hermione asked.

Neville answered, “You already know that one of the responsibilities of a Head of House is to arrange betrothals and marriages between his children and children of other Houses, right?”

Hermione nodded, scowling; but unlike her Hogwarts years, Hermione did not now rant about “barbaric wizarding customs.”

Neville continued, “When an Heir or a Head of House is also the only one of his line still alive, such as Harry, he has an absolute right to marry whomever he wishes.”

Hermione now was smiling a small smile, Harry noticed.

Neville explained, “Line Theft is when you interfere with the selection process. Say, if Dominique Weasley used her Veela Allure on Draco, so that he signed a betrothal contract between her and Scorpius Malfoy, instead of Draco negotiating a betrothal contract between Scorpius and whatever witch Draco would have picked if Draco’s mind had been clear. In this case, Dominique would have committed Line Theft against the House of Malfoy.”

Hermione snarled, “So Ginny potioning Harry is a serious crime, but Ron potioning me is _not?_ How is _that_ fair?”

Harry grinned at Hermione. “Become Minister of Magic, and make this problem go away.”

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him.

With a serious expression, Neville said, “Hermione, with the laws as they are right now, Ron could potion _any_ muggle-born woman with a full-strength Lust potion, in the Ministry atrium in front of a hundred witnesses, and he wouldn’t get even a one-knut fine.”

“The rape and brainwashing of muggle-borns is _legal_,” Hermione said, scowling. “_Brilliant_.”

****

**An instant later**

Harry said to the other three, “I don’t want to believe _anything_ you’re telling me about Ginny, Ron and Molly. But I guess this is my potions talking?”

Both Luna and Hermione nodded.

“So what happens now?” Harry asked.

Luna replied, “The _unofficial_ examination that I just gave you, I want to do again, this time using a dicta-quill. Then I will give you a purging potion and, eventually, two nutrient potions.”

Hermione grinned at Harry. “If you’ve never taken a purging potion before, it’s the most horrid experience you’ll ever go through _voluntarily_. Meaning, this misery you’re about to suffer, you _chose_ it.”

Harry grinned back. “No, the _First Task_ was the worst thing I ever volunteered for. But I hear what you’re saying.”

Harry turned to Luna. “Let’s get this done.” Luna, then Harry, started to walk out.

Neville said, “I strongly urge you not to put yourself anyplace that Ginny can get to, once you drink the purging potion. I have spare bedrooms galore, so I invite you to stay here.”

“Agreed, and with thanks, Nev,” Harry said.

Luna led Harry out of Hermione’s guest room, leaving Hermione and Neville behind.

Hermione said, “Neville, I need to ask a favour.” She reached into her beaded bag and pulled out a Gringotts key. “I ask you to send an elf with my key to Flourish & Blotts. Tell the elf to buy every book they have on _wizarding-world divorce_.”

****

Madam Pomfrey had never asked Harry to completely undress—which is why Madam Pomfrey never had taken official notice of the scars that Vernon Dursley had put on Harry’s back. And perhaps Madam Pomfrey had never noticed all the bones that had been broken before Harry had begun Hogwarts.

But Luna saw the scars. Luna discovered the broken bones.

Now as naked Harry lay on a table, Luna described in clinical detail Harry’s scars and his many poorly-healed bones. While Luna’s words for the dicta-quill were medical and emotionless, Luna silently wept as she spoke, and one time she ran her hand down Harry’s scarred back in a soothing caress.

But most of Luna’s time during the exam was spent finding the potions that were clouding Harry’s thinking. Luna found six active potions, of four different kinds: Love, Loyalty, Indifference and Doormat. (A Doormat potion made the victim accept undeserved bad treatment from a particular person, without the victim speaking up or taking steps to stop the mistreatment.)

After a lengthy question-and-answer session between Harry and Luna, she announced the six specific potions that Harry had active in him—

• Love (for Ginny);

• Loyalty (for the Weasley family);

• Indifference (towards Hermione);

• Doormat (around Ginny);

• Doormat (around Ron); and

• Doormat (around Molly).

Harry’s body also contained residue of a seventh potion, so Luna informed Harry. Long ago, he had been dosed with Doormat potion that had been keyed to Albus Dumbledore.

****

Harry put his clothes back on, then Luna handed him the unopened bottle of purging potion. Before he drank the potion, Luna led him to the Floo Room, where he floo-called his boss, who was Head Auror Josephus Travers. Travers looked grim when Harry told him, “I won’t be at work tomorrow because I’ll be under the effects of purging potion. I’ve been love-potioned.”

Before Harry settled into his own guest bedroom and drank his own purging potion, he visited Hermione in her room. (In truth, Harry was procrastinating at drinking the purging potion.)

Harry discovered that while he had been getting a medical exam, somehow Hermione had bought a booklet on wizarding-world marriage and family law. Harry walked into Hermione’s room to find her in a fierce discussion with Neville about what the booklet said.

****

From the booklet and from Neville, what Hermione learnt was this—

Any married witch or wizard may speak a Divorce declaration (which is quoted in the booklet), and (s)he is instantly divorced—no solicitor or barrister is needed. However, the ex-spouse keeps the house, and gets custody of the children _always_. Also, the divorcer gets 75 percent of his/her magical core instantly bound. (This does not make the divorcer a squib, but (s)he winds up being not much more powerful than a squib.)

There are two ways to remove the divorce-binding: 1) marry somebody (which is the easy way); or 2) get the Chief Warlock to rule that the divorcer’s ex-spouse ruined the marriage through either adultery or potioning. If the Chief Warlock rules that the divorcer had legal grounds to end the marriage, then the 75-percent block will be removed from the divorcer, the Chief Warlock will place a 75-percent block on the ex-spouse (which cannot be removed by remarriage), and custody of children will be given to the divorcer. If the Chief Warlock finds that the ex-spouse potioned the divorcer, the Chief Warlock can order arrest(s) for the crime of Line Theft.

The divorcer keeps the contents of whatever vaults (s)he holds individually. But all vaults held jointly get their contents awarded to the ex-spouse, except for family heirlooms of the divorcer. If the divorcer, prior to the divorce, has transferred money from a joint vault to an individual vault that belongs to him/her, then upon the divorce, 75 percent of the transferred money will be transferred again, to an individual vault of the ex-spouse. In short, the divorcer will always take a big money-hit by declaring the divorce.

However, the Chief Warlock, if he rules that the ex-spouse is guilty of adultery or potioning, can order that money or tangible items be transferred from the ex-spouse’s vault(s) to the divorcer’s vault(s).

Magical divorce changes the wards of the family house—after twenty-four hours, the divorcer may not pass through the wards at his/her former house.

The good news about annulment, when this is even possible, is that annulment does not put any magical binding on either spouse. The bad news about annulment is that afterwards, all the children lose their House and their last name, becoming lower status than muggle-borns. On the other hand, magical divorce neither ejects the couple’s children from their Houses, nor deletes the children’s surnames.

Only the Head of a halfblood or pureblood House may annul a marriage. Harry may annul his marriage to Ginny, and Arthur Weasley may annul either Ron’s marriage or Ginny’s marriage, but Hermione (who is technically the Head of New House Granger) may not annul her marriage to Ron.

****

Hermione looked at Harry in her room and asked, “You haven’t drunk the purging potion yet, correct? So you can give me your undivided attention, right?”

Puzzled Harry said, “Yes, so?”

Hermione looked at Harry, Neville and Luna, and said, “May I have everyone’s attention, please?”

Hermione said, “Just so everyone knows, George Weasley has been paying me for consulting work in charms, runes and arithmancy. I’ve been keeping that money in a separate vault, plus I still have my trust vault from my teenage years, so it’s not like I’ll be knutless. Anyway...”

Hermione turned pages in the booklet till she found the page she was looking for. Then she used one hand to open the book wider, and used her wand-hand to point her wand at the ceiling.

Looking serious, she said, “I, Hermione Jean Weasley, born into New House Granger, declare my marriage to Ronald Bilius Weasley to be ended. If I am being magically swayed or compelled, may this declaration be ignored. So mote it be.”

Light flashed, and Hermione gasped in pain—

—but for only two seconds. Afterwards, Hermione said to Harry, “When your turn comes, know that the divorce-binding doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would.”


	5. Harry Unmarries Too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In canon, Hermione’s parents are not named. This leaves me free to name them whatever I want—for instance, Ozzy (Ozymandias) and Bertha Granger. Instead, I am tapping into the fan-fiction consensus and am naming Hermione’s parents Daniel and Emma.
> 
> ****
> 
> I’ve owned a Bic four-colour (black, blue, red and green) pen since my uni days. It turns out that a four-colour pen is a useful thing to have.

**Meanwhile, elsewhere in England**  
**The home of Ron, Rose and Hugo Weasley**  
**Former home of Hermione Weasley**

Hugo Weasley was sitting at the dinner table, doing his homework unusually early in the evening, and Ron was unwillingly helping him.

Neither father nor son spoke, except about the homework. Hugo did not speak because he was _sad_ that Hermione was not in the house; Ron did not speak because he was _angry_ that Hermione was not in the house.

Then Ron heard the _clang_ of a bell—_inside his head_—which was followed by _silence_ inside his mind, except for his own thoughts.

From the moment, eighteen years ago, when both he and Hermione had spoken their wedding declarations, Ron always had heard Hermione’s thoughts in his mind. Hermione’s mental voice had always been quiet in his head, but her voice had always been there.

Until now. Hermione’s voice was _gone_ from Ron’s head.

Ron felt panic. _What just happened?_ Had Hermione been killed by some strange muggle machine? Had she suicided?

Five minutes later, a Gringotts owl tapped at Ron’s window, and Ron learnt he was now a divorcé.

This was when Ron noticed that his wedding ring had disappeared off his hand.

Ron turned away from Hugo, so that the sad boy could not see Ron’s grin. The wizarding world, unlike the muggles, did not limit how soon someone could remarry after a divorce. Ron could remarry _right this minute_ if he chose to!

Ron began to build a mental list of lucky women, one of whom would become the second Mrs. Ron Weasley.

Topping the list was Ron’s mistress, Fuchsia Brown.

Ron did not tell Hugo about the divorce; Ron did _not_ want to deal with an angry or crying ten-year-old.

****

**Meanwhile, at Longbottom Manor**

Hermione had already noticed that her wedding ring was missing off her hand, when a house elf handed her a Gringotts letter that had arrived by owl.

The letter, she noticed, was addressed to “Hermione Granger,” not “Hermione Weasley.”

****

**An hour later  
Longbottom Manor**

Luna handed Hermione a nutrient potion—an action which told Hermione that she was finished with the “gastrointestinal adventures” caused by her purging potion.

After Hermione drank the nutrient potion, she asked Luna, “Will you please show me where Harry’s guest bedroom is?”

“I will, if you truly want me to. But the nastiness you’ve finished, he’s just starting; he won’t be good company.”

“I still need to talk to him, Luna.”

Luna gave Hermione another one of Luna’s unearthly looks. “Indeed you _do_ need to talk to Harry. You need to clean the slate.”

A minute later, Hermione was knocking on a green-painted door. Even through the closed door, Hermione smelled disgusting smells.

Hermione waited at the door, but Harry did not answer her knock. She opened the door and called out, “Harry?”

Hermione heard Harry’s voice coming from this bedroom’s bathroom: “Oi, Hermione. Three guesses where I am, and three guesses what I’m doing!”

As Hermione stepped into the guest bedroom, she grinned and said, “I don’t need to guess, I _remember quite well_ what happens after I took the purging potion.”

Then Hermione stopped her bantering; instead, she put on the insecure voice of that twelve-year-old girl who had cried in a bathroom. “Harry?”

Hermione walked across the floor to where she was just outside the bathroom, so that anyone in the bathroom could hear her voice clearly. Hermione leant back against the bedroom wall, then let her body slide down till her bum hit the inlaid-wood floor. “Harry, after I met you, there were five years in which I _wasn’t_ potioned, but do you know what I _never_ said to you in all that time?”

Harry actually laughed, despite his bathroom misery. “I can’t begin to guess what you _didn’t_ tell me. Honestly, Hermione, whenever I didn’t measure up, you were quick to let me know.”

“Harry, I never told you ‘I love you,’ and after the ride on Buckbeak, I _knew_. But I was a bad Gryffindor—I was too cowardly to tell you.”

“If you’d told me ‘I love you’ in third year, Viktor Krum would have been _way_ too late when he asked you to the Yule Ball in fourth year.”

“You would have asked _me_ to the Yule Ball? Ahead of Cho Chang?”

“Ahead of Cho Chang, ahead of Susan Bones or Daphne Greengrass, and ahead of Hannah Abbott, Lavender or Parvati.”

In a timid voice, Hermione asked, “And ahead of Ginny?”

“Yes, ahead of Ginny,” Harry replied. Then he asked, “Why are you telling me this _now?_ I’m sort of distracted at the moment.”

“I’ve been thinking back over my earlier life. While I’m angry over the years I was potioned, I don’t regret anything I did during them—how could I regret my actions, I wasn’t myself! But _before_ I was potioned? Ha, a _quite_ different story, I have _gigantic_ regrets. At fourteen, I thought I had years and years to tell you I loved you, but I didn’t tell you so you never knew, then we both were potioned, so our happy life together _never happened_. Well, I don’t want you ignorant _any more_. Tomorrow, after your insides are clean and your mind is clear, you can decide how to live the rest of your life; and when you’re deciding, you’ll _know_ what the bushy-haired know-it-all thinks of you.”

Harry said, “Hermione, that’s the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me.” Then he vomited.

****

**Later that evening**

After Hugo went to bed, Ron stepped through the floo to the New Burrow, to visit his parents. After Ron walked into the kitchen and shared his I’m-divorced news, his father looked sad—clearly Dad was sad that Hermione no longer was part of the Weasley family. Ron’s mother looked angry—no surprise there—but Ron was surprised to spot moments when his mum looked worried. But then Ron’s mum lifted her head; Mum plainly had come to a decision.

Mum turned to Dad and said, “Leave, Arthur. I need to talk to Ron alone.”

“Yes, dear.” Arthur Weasley walked out of the kitchen.

Mum said to Ron, “Hermione now has twenty-one hours to collect her things, before your wards lock her out. Has she come by your house yet?”

“I don’t think so, no.”

“Ron, think carefully before you answer: Do you want her back?”

“I do. There are dirty dishes piling up in my sink, and I’m _pants_ at helping Hugo with his homework. Not to mention”—Ron put on what he thought was a suave smile—“there are certain things I can get _only_ from Hermione.”

Mum raised her eyebrows. Coolly she asked, “So the rumours _aren’t_ true? You _aren’t_ ‘cuddling’ Lavender Brown’s youngest sister?”

Ron’s ears turned red, but this time from embarrassment. “_Mum_...”

“Stay here,” Mum ordered, “and I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

Not waiting for a reply, Ron’s mother walked out of the kitchen.

When Mum returned, she was carrying a potion bottle, and what looked like a perfume bottle with a built-in sprayer. “This is Doormat potion, keyed to both Hermione and you. Put it in Hermione’s drink, or wear it as a cologne when she comes to collect her stuff. By this time tomorrow, the muggle-born _will_ speak her marriage declaration to you for the second time—on her knees, if that’s what you want.”

“Hold on, Mum, I thought the reason we never gave a Doormat potion to Hermione was that if she suddenly was saying ‘Yes dear, whatever you say, dear,’ her friends would notice.”

Ron’s mother looked at him as if he were a moron. “_Her friends now know about the potions_, Ronald. But we’ll fix it so that whatever her friends know, won’t matter.”

****

**The next day—**  
**Tuesday, 5th September, 2017**  
**A little after 10 a.m., Great Britain time**  
**Hermione’s guest bedroom, Longbottom Manor**

Hermione was wringing her hands. Harry, who now was past being affected by his purging potion, was staring into Hermione’s fretful face.

“Relax, Hermione,” Harry said. “Everything will be fine.”

“Easy for _you_ to say,” she replied. “_I_ think I’ve ruined my relationship with my parents, and I’m not sure this letter will fix everything.”

While still wringing her hands, Hermione said, “May I have a house elf, please?”

_Pop_. A house elf in House of Longbottom livery appeared before Hermione and Harry.

Hermione held out to the elf a many-times-folded sheet of parchment. “May I ask you to put a Longbottom wax seal on the outside of this? Then deliver this letter to my parents in Melbourne, Australia?”

The elf replied, “Tangy will do this. Lord Longbottom told Greenstalk that he permits a wax seal for Miss Granger, and permits elf-mail to Australia for Miss Granger. Tangy will put a wax seal on this letter, then take this letter to Australia.”

_Pop_—the elf vanished with Hermione’s letter.

Hermione said to Harry, “I hope this letter fixes things with my parents.”

Harry said, “I’m sure your letter will help a lot, ‘Miss Granger.’ ”

“ ‘Miss Granger’—Merlin, how long has it been since anyone called me that?”

Harry took Hermione in his arms. “The question you should _really_ be asking is, ‘How long from now before my name is changed _again?_’ Well, if _I_ have anything to say about it, you won’t keep ‘Miss Granger’ long at all.”

“Um, Harry? Your words are pretty, but you’re still married to Ginny.”

“Only until I return from Gringotts.”

Then Harry looked at Hermione and grinned mischievously. “Why don’t you come with me to Gringotts? I have an idea.”

****

**Meanwhile, at a little after 8 p.m. local time  
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia**

Expatriate British dentists Wendell and Monica Wilkins (who in private called themselves Daniel and Emma Granger) were relaxing at home when—_pop!_—a house elf appeared by Wendell’s chair.

The elf wore dark-brown leather shoes, light-brown pants, and a long, light-brown shirt that covered his hips. On the front of the light-brown shirt was a large burgundy _L_, which was drawn with green vines winding around the letter.

The elf handed a folded-parchment letter to Wendell. The elf said, “Call for Tangy when you want to send a reply, Mr. Wilkins,” then the elf _pop_-vanished.

Wendell recognised his daughter’s handwriting, but he was surprised to see a letter from her that was written with a quill on parchment—it had been twenty years since Hermione had sent her parents one of those. Wendell was just as surprised to see that Hermione’s parchment letter had been fastened shut with a fancy wax-seal _L_—which was made from green wax instead of the traditional red.

The parchment letter—which was three feet long— began with—

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_I’ve been a fool. It mortifies me with embarrassment to tell you that your daughter, supposedly “the brightest witch of her age,” has been played for a fool for TWENTY YEARS._

The letter ended with—

_Last night I magically divorced Ron. No lawyers, hurrah! Still left to do: Go to Ron’s house (formerly our house) to pick up my things, and sit down with Rose and Hugo to explain why I divorced their father. I’m sure my git ex-husband won’t make these tasks easy._

_Love,_

_Hermione_

_P.S. 5th September, 9:56 a.m.: Harry just told me he loves me! Are things looking up?_

Wendell read the entire letter aloud to Monica. Then he said to her, “I have to be honest, Emma. If it weren’t for the wax seal, and the posh-dressed house elf, right now I’d be believing Hermione was telling us big lies. ‘I married the redhead because I was love-potioned’ strikes me as _way_ too convenient an excuse.”

Monica gestured towards the long parchment. “Hermione has been taught humility now. I think our child will be the better for it.”

Then Wendell and Monica went to the table to write their reply letter. The letter began—

_Dear Hermione,_

_Right now, your mother and I are estranged from you, beginning with us learning that you changed our memories without our permission. But we also absolutely disapproved of you marrying that redheaded lout. Anyway, if you stay divorced from Ron, and then you marry Harry Potter, most of our estrangement will end. The rest can be fixed._

_All your mother and I were waiting for was for you to realise “I’m not so smart as I think I am.”_

****

**A half-hour later**  
**A little after 10:30 a.m., Great Britain time**  
**In Gringotts in Diagon Alley, London**

As Hermione had watched, Harry had told his goblin, Bloodyclaws, to create an enormous individual vault, then Harry had transferred every galleon, sickle and knut from the Potter family vault and the Black family vault into the new vault. Now Hermione heard the amount of money transferred, and she was stunned.

She thought, _This is the same Harry Potter who wore his cousin’s clothing when he attended Hogwarts?_

Meanwhile, Harry was explaining his actions to Hermione: “I still have my Hogwarts trust vault; Ginny can’t touch that. Now as a Head of House for two Houses, I could annul my marriage to Ginny—but this would leave my three kids nameless and Houseless, so annulment _isn’t_ an option. As it is now, when I divorce Ginny, she will get Potter Manor, Grimmauld Place and 75 percent of my money—that is, until this Friday.”

Hermione grinned evilly. She was well aware of what awaited Ron and Ginny on Friday; for Molly Weasley, Friday would be no holiday either.

Once all the coinage had been magically transferred from the Potter and Black family vaults to Harry’s new vault, Bloodyclaws handed the new gold key to Harry. Both the goblin and Hermione were surprised when Harry handed the key back.

Harry told Bloodyclaws, “I want an inheritance test for my friend Hermione. Let’s see if Gringotts has any inactive vaults she can inherit.”

Harry then grinned at Hermione. “You’re divorced now, so even if today you wind up as the owner of a million-galleon vault, Ron won’t receive one knut more than what he already has.”

Bloodyclaws placed on his desk a goblin-made dagger, a bowl, and a double-width, long sheet of blank parchment. Hermione cut her thumb with the dagger, then dripped three drops of blood into the bowl. Harry vanished Hermione’s blood on the knifetip and healed her thumb, as Bloodyclaws passed a hand over the bowl. The parchment began filling up with names and connecting lines, beginning with Hermione’s own name (in black) and those of her parents (in blue).

Two minutes later, the parchment was filled with Hermione’s genealogy. She was not surprised that the parchment held many blue names—frankly, Hermione expected _all_ of her ancestors to be muggles.

One of Hermione’s black-text ancestors, Charles Dagworth-Granger, had a red box around his name. This meant that Hermione was Head of House for House Dagworth-Granger, and could claim that House’s vault, family crest and Lordship ring. Grinning Hermione quickly did so.

Harry laughed, then pointed at a different part of Hermione’s genealogy: “Look here. Draco will _weep_ when you tell him!”

Ramses Malfoy, born 1892, had sired a son, Stefanus Malfoy (whose name on the genealogy was in green), whom Ramses had disowned. Stefanus Malfoy had changed his name to Stephen Moffitt, then had married a muggle woman, Elizabeth Buford. Stephen’s and Elizabeth’s daughter Connie Moffitt had married Edward Taylor, and they had had a daughter, Emma Taylor; Emma Taylor had married Daniel Granger, and they had had a daughter, Hermione Granger.

Now the flesh-and-blood Hermione Granger covered her eyes with both hands. “The ferret is my _third cousin?_”

****

**Two minutes later  
Outdoors, on the steps of Gringotts**

Hermione pulled the booklet on wizarding-world marriage and family law from her beaded bag. She found the page that Harry wanted, then handed the booklet to him.

A light rain was falling. Passersby hurried to find shelter as Harry pointed his wand at the sky and said—

“I, Harry James Potter-Black, Head of House Potter and of House Black, declare my marriage to Ginevra Molly Weasley Potter to be ended. If I am being magically swayed or compelled, may this declaration be ignored. So mote it be.”

Harry was so distracted by the pain of his magical core being 75-percent bound, Hermione had to point out to him that his wedding ring had disappeared off his hand.

“Is the ring gone?” she asked. “Is it vanished? A gold ring is worth money, so I hope it isn’t _gone_.”

“No, I’m sure my wedding ring, and Ginny’s wedding ring, both have been transferred to the Potter family vault, which is now heirlooms-only.”

Then Harry looked at Hermione and grinned. “Come to think of it, somewhere below our feet are many Potter wedding rings and many Potter betrothal rings. Lady Hermione Dagworth-Granger, will you become my betrothed, soon to become my wife?”

“Yes, but I won’t wear any of your rings till after Friday.” Grinning, Hermione added, “You know why we still have to be divorced on Friday.”

Harry’s grin was Bellatrix-sadistic. “Certain redheads are about to learn the hard way, that the _defeater of Voldemort_ is no longer under any Doormat potion.”

Hermione’s grin was just as evil. “Friday, dear Ronald, will be recompense time.” At Harry’s puzzled look, she explained: “Payback.”

****

**4 p.m.**

Hermione picked up Hugo at school, and the two of them flooed back to the house that had been Hermione’s home until yesterday.

When mother and son arrived at the house, Hermione found her ex-husband waiting for her.


	6. Mother-Son Talk

**Tuesday, 4 p.m.  
Godric Gryffindor Primary School**

Hugo’s schoolday had ended, and Hermione was at the school to take her son home—for the last time, but Hugo did not know this yet.

Because the three members of the Golden Trio, and their children, still were considered Preferred Targets, Hermione and Hugo would go home by using the floo-fireplace in the school’s office, rather than by walking beyond the school’s wards and apparating to Ron’s house. So it was in the school office that Hermione waited for her son.

Now as Hugo walked into the school office, Hermione said to him, “After I take you home, I want to discuss something with you.”

“Does it have anything to do,” Hugo asked, “with you being gone all last night?”

Hermione nodded. “Yesterday I divorced your father. Today I move out of your house.”

Hugo stared.

Hermione noted that an office lady looked stunned at Hermione’s words. Hermione said to Hugo, “I’ll continue this discussion after we get home. We’ll be alone there.”

She tossed floo powder into the school office’s floo-fireplace and called out, “Ronald Weasley house.” The flames turned green.

But before Hermione and Hugo stepped through those green flames, she charmed a bubble of fresh air around her head.

****

Before the Second Task, Hermione had torn Hogwarts’s library apart, but had found not even a hint about the Bubble-Head Charm. But after that Task, even whilst Hermione had been recovering in the infirmary because she had been a hostage, she had made sure to ask Fleur Delacour how to cast the Bubble-Head Charm. Fortunately, Hermione spoke some French, so she could be taught the spell. Soon after Hermione had learnt the Beauxbatons spell, she had devised the English-language version of the Bubble-Head Charm and had taught the English-language Bubble-Head Charm to the rest of Hogwarts.

But now, about to enter the floo-fireplace in Godric Gryffindor Primary School, Hermione took the precaution of speaking the French words that originally had cast the Bubble-Head Charm. Speaking the spell-words in French meant that only certain other French words, spoken aloud, would diffuse the bubble of clean air that now surrounded Hermione’s head; _finite incantatem_ would not end this spell.

****

After passing through the floo, Hermione had expected to step into an empty Floo Room and an empty house. Instead, she found danger—

As soon as Hermione stepped out of the floo-fireplace, there stood Ron. He grabbed her left hand, which almost completely immobilised her left arm, then Ron snatched Hermione’s wand out of her left-forearm wand holster.

In less than five seconds, Hermione had gone from feeling no danger to being in big trouble.

****

**One second later**

Hermione had stopped in her tracks for only a moment, but this was long enough that Hugo, who now was stepping out of the floo-fireplace himself, bumped into his mother from behind.

Hermione stumbled, and her knees and her right hand all hit the flat-stone floor in front of the floo-fireplace. Ron released Hermione’s left hand and stepped back away from his ex-wife. Ron’s wand now was pointed at Hermione.

The Dagworth-Granger ring on Hermione’s right hand, which had shown a boring white background when she had stepped through the floo, now showed a lavender background.

“_Dad?_” said Hugo. “Why are you holding Mum’s wand? Why is _your_ wand pointed at Mum? Why does the room smell strange?”

“Hugo, go to your room,” Ron ordered.

“Hugo, stay here,” Hermione said. “I need a witness.”

Ron said, “You’re smart, ’Mione, walking into the house already wearing a Bubble-Head Charm. But you’re—_finite incantatem!_—not smart enough.”

Spellfire hit Hermione in the forehead. It had no effect.

As Hermione slowly stood up, Ron demanded, “Dammit, why didn’t it work? _Finite incantatem! Finite incantatem!_” Hermione’s head was spell-blasted twice more; and again, the Bubble-Head Charm remained about her head.

Behind Hermione, Hugo said, “Dad, you’re scaring me.”

Ron hurried away from Hermione and to his left, towards the magical television; but all the time Ron was moving, he was facing Hermione and his wand stayed pointed at her.

Ron laid Hermione’s wand on the magical television, well out of her reach. Already atop the magical television was a wineglass, which was held three fingers’ worth of liquid. The liquid was opaque and of a dull blue colour; whatever the liquid was, it was not wine.

Ron rushed toward Hermione, and thrust the wineglass and its blue liquid towards Hermione’s right hand. “Drink this,” Ron commanded; his wand still was pointed at her chest. “Drink this _now!_”

The fingertips of Hermione’s right hand now were only an inch away from the wineglass. The background colour of Hermione’s Head of House ring shifted from lavender to bright purple.

“_I_, drink one of _Howler Molly’s_ potions?” Hermione snapped. “_No bloody way!_” She yanked her hand away from the wineglass.

“Obey or else! _Welti!_” Ron cried, shooting the Stinging Hex at Hermione.

But Hermione felt no sting; instead, a momentary yellow shield flashed, inches in front of her face and body.

“_Welti!_ _Welti!_” Ron yelled—and the Dagworth-Granger yellow shield flashed twice more, blocking Ron’s Stinging Hexes twice more.

Ron said, “Well, shit. Seems I need to use spells that are _nastier_—”

“_STOP THIS!_” Hermione yelled. “_GO AWAY!_” Both of Hermione’s hands thrust forwards, towards Ron’s chest.

From Hermione’s left palm, a red spell shot out. The red spell hit Ron in the chest and he flew backwards—far enough that he hit the wall that was ten feet behind him. Ron sagged down limply to the floor. The flying wineglass, meanwhile, had spattered opaque blue liquid all over the Floo Room.

For ten seconds, nobody spoke. Hermione, for her part, spent those ten seconds waiting to _not_ see stars. (Hermione was woozy. She had only a quarter of her former magical power now, and the wandless, wordless Stupefy spell that she just had cast had been _quite_ overpowered.)

Hermione said shakily, “If anyone has ever wondered if accidental magic happens to a thirty-seven-year-old, the answer is yes.”

Hugo asked fearfully, “Is Dad dead?”

“No,” Hermione answered, “the git is only stunned. I’ll wake him before I leave.”

Hermione, who still felt woozy, staggered over to the magical television and reclaimed her wand. Then, as she magically cleaned up the mess that the spilled blue potion had made, she said, “Hugo, I’m in a rush now. I have only two hours to pack up my things, talk to you, then leave. Sometime after six, the wards will change and I’ll be _fried_ if I’m still here then.”

Hugo asked, “Why do you want to talk to me? Am I in trouble? Did you divorce Dad because I’m a bad kid?”

Hermione sighed, then looked at the ceiling. “Who said divorce was easy? _Nobody_, that’s who.”

****

**One second later**

Hermione said to Hugo, “Follow me into my bedroom—whilst it’s still mine.”

As the Weasley boy and the former Weasley wife walked through the house, she explained, “I need you to witness everything I pack up and take with me. So later on, your father can’t accuse me of taking stuff I shouldn’t have.”

Hugo asked, “You really think Dad would do that? Throw out false accusations?”

“In a heartbeat,” Hermione answered.

Once mother and son were in the master bedroom, Hermione headed straight for the big pinewood wardrobe—or rather, she headed straight for the student trunk that was to the right of the wardrobe. That student trunk was monogrammed “HJG.”

Using her hands, Hermione unlocked and opened her student trunk; then using her wand, she began moving folded and hanging clothes from the wardrobe into the trunk.

As Hermione worked, she commented, “Your father’s things are on the left side, and my clothes are on the right side. You see that whatever is leaving the wardrobe, is leaving from the right side?”

“Sure, Mum,” Hugo said. “So, are you going to tell me why on Sunday you were normal, and on Tuesday you’re packing up your stuff and leaving Dad and me? And why you came in here with a bubble all about your head?”

So Hermione told her story. How Monday before dawn, she had awakened with a headache and with strange thoughts; how she had thought she was feverish, but Ron had talked her out of going to St. Mungo’s; how she had decided to visit Luna Longbottom on the sly, only to discover that Luna had been already awake and had been waiting for her; that Luna had diagnosed Hermione as being under the effect of three potions; and Hermione had taken purging potion—

“—which stopped those three other potions from affecting me, but purging potion was _horrid_ to live through. Anyway, when my mind cleared up, I decided that I could not stay married to a man who betrayed my trust, so I made a divorce declaration. Then I realised that when I came here to pick up my property, Ron would try to potion me again—which, as you saw for yourself, I was right about.”

Hugo asked, “That blue stuff in the glass, it was a potion?”

“Yes, though I can’t say what kind.” Hermione suspected that if she wanted to know what the blue potion was or how to brew it, she would have to go to Knockturn Alley.

On the other side of the bed was a dresser with drawers. Hermione magically pulled out the second-to-top drawer, then said, “Hugo, please confirm that you see women’s clothes in that drawer, not men’s clothes.”

Hugo walked over to the open drawer, glanced down, then made a face. “Mum, I’m looking at your _knickers_. And your _bras_.”

Hermione laughed. “And if the Fates be kind, you’ll never need to look at your mother’s knickers and bras, or talk about your mother’s knickers and bras, after today.”

All the underwear in the second-to-top drawer flew across the room and into the student trunk.

Next, mother, son and trunk moved into the master bathroom. Hermione claimed all but one of the hair-care bottles in the bathroom.

In the kitchen, Hermione claimed most of the kitchen gadgets, but none of the food in the cold-box or the stasis-box. (Hermione explained why she took no food: “Hugo, you need whatever food I bought _as food_ more than I need anything in there _as property_. Just make sure your father doesn’t eat it all!”)

The next-to-last group of things that Hermione claimed, as her son watched, was to move her books from the house’s bookshelves into her trunk.

Hugo was shocked to discover that what his mother was claiming were not _most_ of the books in the house, but _all_ of the house’s books. Hugo blurted, “Dad doesn’t own _any_ books after Hogwarts?”

Hermione looked at her son for a long time before she answered: “No. The man whom I married, never owned even one book in all the time I was married to him. This should have been my first clue that I was potioned.”

****

**The Floo Room**

Ron still was stunned unconscious. Hermione walked over to him, picked up his wand, and casually tossed the wand to Hugo. She told her son, “Don’t give the wand back to your father till after I’m gone.” Hugo nodded.

(By now, Hermione’s Dagworth-Granger ring had reverted to a white background. When Hermione walked close to Ron’s body, in order to pick up his wand, she noted that her Dagworth-Granger ring’s background colour turned lavender again. Hermione was glad that her Bubble-Head Charm meant that she couldn’t smell the potion-cologne that Ron obviously was wearing.)

Hermione’s final claim, before leaving the house, was to shrink the magical television and to levitate it into her student trunk. Hugo remarked, “Dad won’t like you taking that.”

“Then Ron can jolly well go out and buy a replacement!” Hermione snapped. “This particular unit is the second muggle television that Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes modified; and before we started modifying televisions, your Uncle George and I _melted our brains_ trying to come up with runework that would make a television work in a heavily magical space. Inside of the unit is an eternally-charged battery, and _I_ devised the runework to make the battery work forever. Hurrah for me.”

Hugo said, “So this magical television isn’t only entertainment for you, it also means bragging rights?”

“Exactly.”

Hermione’s property-reclaiming task had ended up in the Floo Room. Hermione closed her student trunk, then moved the trunk by the floo-fireplace. She saw Hugo turn nervous, as he realised his mother was leaving his house for good.

He asked, “Is any of your divorce because of me? Have I been a bad son?”

Hermione bent down to hug him. “_No_, my beloved boy. You are a _fine_ son, and one day you will be a _fine_ man.”

Hermione drew her wand, then walked over to Ron, about to _enervate_ him. Hugo called out, “_Wait_. Before you wake Dad up, please tell me, What’s the key thing I should learn about you divorcing Dad? What’s most important to know?”

Hermione glared at unconscious Ron. “Hugo, my husband broke my trust. In a marriage, this is unforgivable.”

****

**Meanwhile, in the _Daily Prophet_ newsroom**

Parvati Finch-Fletchley was excited. As the Society reporter for the _Daily Prophet_, usually stories with her byline appeared in the back half of the newspaper—if they appeared at all. But less than an hour ago, Parvati had been owled a rumour that, if the rumour was true, would put her name and her words on the front page of tomorrow’s newspaper—

_Had Hermione Weasley divorced Ron Weasley and become Hermione Granger again? Were two-thirds of the “Golden Trio” now divorced?_

Parvati had just owled Hermione with a quick note asking, “Is this rumour true?” Parvati _hoped to Merlin_ that Hermione would owl back a reply before the _Prophet_’s 7 p.m. deadline.

While Parvati impatiently waited, she thought about the three members of the “Golden Trio,” whom Parvati had spent most of her Hogwarts years near to.

Really, it was no surprise that Hermione had divorced Ron—the _true_ surprise was that Hermione had married Ron in the first place, and that Hermione had stayed with him for eighteen years. In Parvati’s humble opinion, Ron was a pig, in more ways than one. Hermione deserved better than Ron—hell, _Pansy Parkinson_ deserved better than Ron.

(_Hm_, Parvati thought, _Pansy has never married, so she and Ron could marry now. Those two certainly deserve each other_.)

The truly sad thing to Parvati, the truly disappointing thing, was what had happened to Harry Potter. He had married fangirl Ginny Weasley—who to Parvati, was only one step up from that bint Romilda Vane. Worse, whenever the Potters attended some posh wizarding-world gathering—and Ginny Potter _never_ passed up a chance to don dress robes, so Parvati saw the Potters at _many_ big galas—Ginny bossed Harry around as if he were a house elf. Worst of all, Harry answered all of Ginny’s scornful commands with the same meek reply every time: “Yes, dear.” The boy who had defeated Voldemort now acted like a black-haired, green-eyed copy of Arthur Weasley.

What had happened to Harry? What had happened to Hermione? Parvati honestly could not guess. Up until sixth year, whether Harry and Hermione would marry one day was a sucker’s bet. Parvati had never seen Harry and Hermione kiss, and Hermione always had blushingly denied all such rumours, but those two were clearly closer than most older couples who sneaked off to broom cupboards. Alas, beginning in sixth year, Harry’s and Hermione’s non-kissing love ended, and Parvati could not guess why. Now in 2017, Hermione Weasley in public was no more affectionate to Harry than she was to Parvati’s husband Justin; and Harry was no more flirtatious near Hermione Weasley than he was near Parvati.

Parvati felt sad. If the Harry-Hermione romance could not survive the passage of years, what hope did any other witch have?

“_Parvati?_” yelled a familiar voice. “Oi, _Earth to Parvati!_”

Parvati looked up. Striding across the newsroom was Parvati’s former roommate, Hermione Granger(?)

****

**Minutes later  
At Parvati’s desk in the newsroom**

Hermione sat in a plain wooden chair by Parvati’s desk, and the two women talked in whispers. Parvati noticed that the entire newsroom had gone quiet, as other reporters tried to hear Hermione’s words.

Clarification: tried to hear Hermione _Granger’s_ words. Parvati had just learnt that the rumour was true: yesterday, Hermione had magically divorced Ron.

Parvati wanted to fist-pump and to yell _YES!_ Front-page byline for the win!

Out of the blue, Hermione asked Parvati, “When does your workday end? And when is your deadline tonight?”

“Seven o’clock for both,” Parvati replied. “Why?”

“Neville has given me permission to invite you to floo to Longbottom Manor tonight. Why don’t you visit around eight? This gives you plenty of time to interview Harry and me.”

Parvati looked confused. “Interview you _and Harry?_ Why? What’s going on with Harry?”

Hermione smiled mischievously as she leant in closer to Parvati. In as quiet a whisper as Hermione could achieve, she said, “Didn’t I tell you? This morning, I saw and heard Harry Potter speak a divorce declaration against Ginny.”

As wide-eyed Parvati started scribbling on her parchment, Hermione quietly added, “Both Harry and I spoke our divorce declaration for the same reason: our redheaded spouses potioned us.”

Parvati stared at Hermione. “_Merlin_,” Parvati breathed.

Now Hermione gestured towards Parvati’s scribblings. “Will this be in tomorrow’s paper?”

“It will, and _front page_ too!”

“Brilliant,” Hermione said sarcastically. “This gives Harry and me only until 8 p.m. to give our Hogwarts children a heads-up.”

****

**5 p.m.  
The Great Hall, Hogwarts**

The doors shut with a _bang_, then Harry and Hermione walked toward the Gryffindor table. Hermione walked up to Rose Weasley and gestured for the first-year redhead to rise and follow her mother; Harry did the same with his first-year son Albus and his third-year son James.

Harry and Hermione, with three puzzled Gryffindor children following, walked up to Headmaster Flitwick. Harry said, “Professor Flitwick, Hermione and I each have urgent family news to share—news which we need privacy for.”

“Will this take a long time?” the headmaster asked. “I worry that the children shall miss dinner completely.”

“Actually, I was figuring we’d talk in the kitchen.”

Flitwick asked, “You know how to get into the kitchen?” Then he laughed. “You’re Harry Potter—_of course_ you know how to get into the kitchen! Go—and tell the elves to feed you and Mrs. Weasley, besides the children.”

Two minutes later, the two adults and three children were walking through a basement corridor that had many food-related oil paintings on the wall. Harry walked up to a still-life of different sorts of fruit in a bowl.

“What are we doing?” Rose Weasley asked.

Harry replied, “We’re almost at the kitchen.”

James said, “I don’t see a door.”

Harry grinned at the children. “Albus, tickle the pear.”

Albus Potter tickled the pear in the painting, and suddenly a shut door and doorknob formed from the white wall behind the painting. Harry opened the door and gestured everyone forwards.

“_Brilliant!_” James said, as he walked into the Hogwarts kitchen. “I love magic.” Hearing this, Harry grinned.

The head kitchen elf immediately made a fuss over the new arrivals, in particular “kind and generous Lord Harry Potter-Black” and “smart and caring Lady Hermy Dagger-Grangy.”

James asked, “Aunt Hermione, why is the elf calling you _this_, instead of ‘Mrs. Weasley’?”

Hermione said, “Well, James, this relates to what Harry and I came here to talk to you about.”

Rose, looking nervous, asked, “Does your news have anything to do with the fact that neither of you is wearing a wedding ring?”

Instead of replying, Harry looked at Hermione and said, “Let’s take our seats.”

The kitchen had five tables that were sized the same and were in the same places as the tables in the Great Hall. This made the question of “Where do we sit?” an easy one. Harry and his sons sat down in the middle of the “Gryffindor” table, while Hermione and Rose sat at the first-years end of the “Gryffindor” table.

****

**Fifteen minutes later**

While Harry was talking to James and Albus, he overheard a small part of the conversation between Hermione and Rose—

Hermione told Rose, “I’m sure that your Grandmother Molly brewed the potions.”

Rose snapped, “How can you be _sure?_ Were you there? Did you see her do it?”

****

**Meanwhile, down the table**

James demanded to know, “Fine, you divorced Mum because you think she potioned you. Will any of your kids by Mum inherit now? Or will your only heirs be the children of _whoever_ your second wife is?” James turned his head and looked pointedly at Hermione. James faced Harry again and continued, “Am I still Heir Potter and Heir Black, or is my future _buggered_ now?”

Harry made himself speak calmly. “James, you are Heir Potter, period—it’s not your fault that your mother used a potion to cause me to sire you with her instead of with a different woman. I’ve raised you as my son, you think of me as your father, I’m head of House Potter, so you’re the Heir; it’s a done deal.”

“Thank you,” James said, speaking slightly less angrily.

“As for Heir Black—actually, even if I never had been told about the potions, I was thinking of declaring Albus to be Heir Black. But if my second wife and I _do_ have a son, he will probably be Heir Black. Sorry, Albus.”

James said sourly, “And Heir Black’s brother might well be Heir Dagworth-Granger.” James looked pointedly at his father.

Harry replied calmly, “Right now, neither Hermione nor I are saying anything about our plans.”

James growled, “But me and your other son eventually becoming Lord Potter and Lord Black might not mean jack. Right now, Mum owns all the Potter and Black houses, and three-fourths of all that money. Nothing says she’ll name her _ex-husband’s son_ in her will! I might end my days with a fancy title but be sleeping in doorways.”

Harry slammed his hand on the table. “Stop your whingeing! You don’t like how I ended my marriage to your mother? _Too bad_. I’m the Lord of a House, so I could have _annulled_ my marriage to Ginny. Which would have been _great_ for me—no property loss, no money loss and no magical binding. But you two boys and Lily Luna would have been _wanked_—you would have had no House afterwards, you would have had no last name and your status in the wizarding world would have been lower than mudbloods! So before you start singing ‘poor pitiful me,’ consider a future where the only life you could ever hope for in the wizarding world would be twelve hours every day sweeping the floor in the Leaky Cauldron. I _spared_ you that future, ingrate.”

Albus whistled, then looked at his brother. “James, I believe Dad now, at least about the Doormat potions. Even last week, Dad wouldn’t have slapped you down when you acted like a tosser.”

****

**8 p.m.  
In a room in Longbottom Manor**

The interview started soon after Parvati took out parchment and a dicta-quill from her purse.

While Parvati was setting up the parchment and quill, Harry said, “I’m glad you’re not using a Quick-Quotes Quill. _Ugh!_”

Hermione said, “And speaking of acid-green quills, _and the disgusting, worthless witches who used them_, did anyone ever solve the disappearance of Rita Skeeter?” Skeeter had disappeared in 2001.

Parvati said, “The Aurors talked to a mob of people, but they’ve never made any arrests. And when I say ‘mob,’ they even talked to _me_.”

Harry and Hermione shared a look. Then Harry said, “We were interrogated too. The Aurors found out that during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Skeeter had written things about each of us that we didn’t like.”

Parvati said, “Last I heard, the Aurors were sure Rita was murdered, but the list of suspects would make a parchment as long as from Scotland to Spain.”

Hermione said, “Actually, there is another possibility. Did you know Rita Skeeter was an unregistered animagus?”

“_Really?_” Parvati said. “No, I didn’t know this. What was her form?”

Parvati’s face was joyful now; she was about to learn a juicy secret.

Harry said, “Skeeter turned into a beetle, so it was easy for her to sneak into places. But she was so small, Hermione captured her in a jar during fourth year and blackmailed her.”

Hermione said primly, “I did not ‘blackmail’ her. I made as fair an offer to Skeeter as she deserved.”

Harry grinned. “Like I said, Hermione blackmailed her.”

Hermione said, “Anyway, in her beetle form, Rita Skeeter was smaller than a sickle coin. _I_ think she was eaten by a bird.” Hermione sideways-eyed Harry. “A snowy owl, perhaps.”

****

**Seconds later**

Harry and Hermione by now were sitting on a loveseat. Parvati by now had finished fussing with the dicta-quill. She sat down in an armchair, looked at Harry and Hermione expectantly and took a breath—

****

**Later**

Harry said, “Both Hermione and I would be in big trouble if not for our great friends, Neville and Luna Longbottom. Right now, because of the wizarding-world divorce laws, Hermione and I basically are homeless—our redheaded ex-spouses own all the houses from our marriages, while all that Hermione and I have is some money. Regent Longbottom has given us a place to stay during this entire process, but he needn’t have done anything of the kind.”

Hermione said, “Being cleaned out by a purging potion feels awful, and it smells worse. I’m glad that I didn’t have to suffer the process in my house, so that afterwards, I didn’t have to clean the bathroom!”

Harry said, “Neville and Luna really are remarkable people. During the Battle of Hogwarts, Voldemort put the Sorting Hat on Neville’s head as a mockery. Neville reached into the Hat and he pulled out—readers, are you ready for this?—the sword of Godric Gryffindor. Then Neville ran towards Nagini, Voldemort’s snake familiar—Voldemort’s _huge_ and _venomous_ snake familiar—and Neville killed the snake with the sword of Godric Gryffindor. Only the _bravest_ of wizards would even _think_ of attacking a huge snake with a sword instead of with a wand.”

Hermione said, “Luna is the kindest and gentlest person I have ever met—wizard, witch or muggle. And Luna is a true seer.”

Harry said, “This said by the woman who thinks Divination is humbug.”

Hermione said, “Monday morning, when I was sick, and scared, and trying to decide how I could get healing without my name winding up in a _gossip column_—sorry, Parvati—Luna already was awake and was floo-calling me.”

Harry said, “Luna examined Hermione, and found potions in her. Later on, Hermione persuaded me to let Luna examine _me_—and again, Luna found potions. Afterwards, Luna prescribed purging potion for each of us. The next half-day was awful for me, but the purging potions worked; Luna knows her stuff.”

****

Parvati asked, “Hermione, why do you think your potions stopped working on Monday?”

Hermione said, “Everyone in Gryffindor knows how lazy Ron is. I think he waited too long before re-dosing me, so the potions expired. But yesterday, Ron tried to fix that.”

Hermione then told the story of bringing her son home from school, only to discover Ron waiting for her at the house, with a potion that he tried to force Hermione to drink.

Harry said, “Speaking of Ron and potions, Parvati, all three of us spent five years in a Potions classroom with Ron. It’s no surprise to any of us that Ron scored only an E on his Potions O.W.L. exam—and this is with both his mother and Hermione reviewing him in Potions. Yet amazingly, the potions that Ron slipped to Hermione and to me all worked as they were supposed to work—how did _this_ happen? It’s undoubtedly _pure coincidence_ that Ron’s mother Molly scored an O-plus on her Potions N.E.W.T. test.”

****

Hermione told Parvati, “It turns out that this muggle-born is actually descended from both squibs and muggles. Tuesday, I was told that I could claim the vault and the ring for House Dagworth-Granger, and so I have claimed them. Also, I am one of Draco Malfoy’s third cousins.”

Parvati _shrieked_ with laughter.

Hermione said, “History records only four muggle-borns have taken an inheritance test and have wound up claiming Head of House. I’m the fourth.”

Harry nodded, hearing this, and he noticed Parvati nodding too. If a fact even slightly sounded like it came from a library, then if Hermione cited the fact, Harry trusted this fact to be true.

Hermione added, “Believe me, Head of House is a very strange thing to become, after having _no reason at all_ to ever, _ever_ expect anything like this. Don’t be shocked in the future when I act like a very untraditional Head of House—because I still think like a muggle-born.”

****

Harry said, “One of the things I treasured about Hermione—before potions changed my attitudes—was that she never saw me as the Boy Who Lived, as portrayed in those silly books; no, Hermione always saw me as just Harry. The funny thing is that before Hermione started Hogwarts, she bought one of those ‘true stories of the Boy Who Lived’ books. Later on in fourth year, when I was going mental because of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Hermione read to me from her silly book and asked me questions about ‘my’ adventures, and we had a big laugh.”

Hermione said, “Honestly, a six-year-old boy on a broom, rescuing a Hungarian village from a horde of vampires? I’m embarrassed that I believed the story long enough to ask my dad to pay for the book.”

Harry said, “But while Hermione at Hogwarts always saw me as just Harry, Ginny Weasley was completely into the whole Boy Who Lived image. It was two years after Ginny met me before she could stop staring at me and could carry on a simple conversation with me. Trust me, I’m not so handsome.”

Hermione said, “I beg to differ. Your green eyes are _amazing_.”

****

Parvati asked with a smile, “So what’s up with you two next?” Parvati was eyeing the clasped hands of Harry and Hermione, so clearly Parvati was expecting a certain sort of answer.

Instead, Hermione replied, “Here’s a hint: This interview will come out in the _Prophet_ on Thursday. On Friday, the two of us will be doing something _quite_ interesting—”

“Yes,” Harry agreed, “on Friday, we’ll be involved with something _exciting_.” Harry grinned maniacally.

Hermione grinned too: “So readers, Saturday’s _Daily Prophet_ will be _quite_ interesting for you to read.”


	7. Friday, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Draco Malfoy gives a speech that will surprise all of you. In my Author Note for next chapter, I’ll explain how 37-year-old Draco was thinking when he gave the speech.

**Thursday night  
The Floo Room, Longbottom Manor**

Hermione tossed the floo powder into the flames, called out “The Burrow,” then knelt and stuck her head into the green flames. “Hello, Weasley house,” Hermione yelled. “Hello, is Arthur Weasley there?”

“Oi, Hermione!” called out George Weasley. Seconds later, George was kneeling in front of the New Burrow’s floo-fireplace.

Hermione said, “I’m surprised to catch you here, George.” George had moved out of the New Burrow almost the very minute he had been handed his N.E.W.T. scores.

Now George shrugged. “Angelina, me and the offsprings were due for a visit home; and when Mum is yelling, why ruin a good weekend?” George lowered his voice and said, “Mum is in a _right state_ after today’s _Daily Prophet_.”

Hermione asked, “How much of what was written up was a surprise to you?”

George evaded the question: “Hermione, suppose I’d said to you last week, ‘I think you’ve been love-potioned. You should see a healer right away.’ Would you have said, ‘Okay, I’ll find a healer as soon as we’re finished here’? No, you would’ve said, ‘George, I haven’t been potioned; I’m in love with Ron because he’s a wonderful man.’ ”

“So that’s why you never mentioned potioning to me while I _was_ potioned? Because you knew the warning would be wasted?”

“That’s _one_ of the reasons I never brought the subject up. Hermione, don’t ask me what I mean by this.”

Hermione took this to mean that George knew, or at least suspected, that members of his family were involved in wrongful potioning, but family loyalty kept George silent.

Now Hermione heard the screeching of a woman’s voice—and it _wasn’t_ Angelina’s voice. “GEORGE, WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO?”

George muttered, “_Merlin_. I’m thirty-nine years old and a successful business owner, yet she still treats me like I can’t be trusted near the biscuit jar.”

Aloud, George said, “I’m talking to Hermione. She floo-called because she wants to talk to Dad. I’ll go get him.” George stood up and walked away from the floo-fireplace.

“NO YOU WON’T, GEORGE WEASLEY! NOBODY AT THIS HOUSE WANTS TO TALK TO THAT BUSHY-HAIRED KNOW-IT-ALL!”

Seconds later, Molly was kneeling down in front of her side of the floo-fireplace; this was when George said, “Mum, you aren’t the queen of this family—well, not officially. If Hermione wants Dad, I’ll bring Dad.”

Molly glared at Hermione. “YOUNG LADY, AFTER WE TOOK YOU IN AND GAVE YOU A HOME FREE FROM MUGGLES, YOU BROKE MY SON’S HEART? AND THE _LIES_ YOU’VE TOLD! SHAME ON YOU! YOU WILL END THIS FLOO-CALL _RIGHT NOW_ AND NOT CALL BACK!”

Hermione laughed at Molly. “It’s always a pleasure to talk to you, ‘Howler Molly.’ Tell me, have you lost weight since we talked last? _Oi_, whom am I kidding? You look _fatter than ever_, you inbred cow. At least _Narcissa Malfoy_ still is slim.”

As Molly looked murderous, a pair of male legs appeared behind her. Arthur’s voice said timidly, “Budge over, Mollywobbles. You want to talk to me, Hermione?”

Hermione said cheerfully, “I do. Is it okay if I come through, _Arthur?_”

“ABSOLUTELY NOT! YOU—”

“Molly, _hush_,” Arthur said—but not at all forcefully.

Kneeling Arthur turned to look at Hermione. “Um, I can’t let you come through, sorry—”

“_Why not_, Dad?” George’s voice asked. “Hermione didn’t rob Gringotts, she just divorced the _lazy git_ I’m brother to.”

“GEORGE, WE ARE HAVING A _PRIVATE_ CONVERSATION HERE! LEAVE US! _NOW!_”

“I’m not leaving, Mum. Hermione is the best Runes consultant I can afford, and I won’t let you _shit on her_ like you do Fleur, Audrey and Angelina. Dad, for Merlin’s sake, _let the woman step through_, hm?”

Arthur bit his lip, then said, “Very well. Come through, Hermione.”

As Hermione stepped into the Floo Room of the New Burrow, she gave Molly a triumphant grin. Hermione noticed silent Angelina standing in the doorway; Angelina rolled her eyes.

Hermione then ignored angry Molly as she faced Arthur. “Tomorrow morning, 8 a.m., is the weekly meeting of the Wizengamot—”

“ARTHUR KNOWS THE START-TIME PERFECTLY WELL—”

Hermione didn’t even turn her head. “_Hush_. Arthur, I’ll be doing something very important there in the morning, and I ask you to _promise_ me you’ll be there for it.”

“ARTHUR, IF SHE WANTS YOU THERE, IT CAN’T BE FOR ANYTHING GOOD. I FORBID YOU GOING THERE! DO YOU HEAR ME? _I FORBID IT!_”

“Yes, dear,” said Arthur.

“That’s fine,” Hermione said to Molly, smiling evilly. “If you keep Arthur from his _sworn duty_ as a seat-holder of the Wizengamot, this will _fit in beautifully_ with what I’ll be telling the Chief Warlock tomorrow. After all, people have noticed that until a few days ago, Harry Potter was just as _henpecked_ as Arthur is. But now Harry _isn’t_ henpecked—blimey, I wonder what changed? Anyway, if Arthur doesn’t come tomorrow, the only way any Weasley will know what I told the Chief Warlock will be when you read about it in Saturday’s newspaper, am I right?”

“ARTHUR, I CHANGED MY MIND: YOU’RE GOING TO THE WIZENGAMOT TOMORROW MORNING! BUT I’M GOING TOO, AND I SHALL _SPEAK UP_ IF THIS WOMAN TELLS LIES!”

Hermione hung her head and sighed. “If you feel the need, Molly. Arthur, thank you for agreeing to my request—may I hug you goodbye?”

****

**After Hermione leaves the New Burrow**

Molly ordered George, Angelina and Arthur out of the Floo Room, then Molly floo-called Ron, then Ginny.

Molly told each of her divorced children, “Hermione will be attending the Wizengamot session tomorrow morning, and she’s _up to something_. I’m sure she’s used her _feminine wiles_ to make Harry go along with her scheme. But I’ll be there to put a stop to her disloyal plot, and I want you two to be there as well.”

Ron said, “I’ll be there—_oi_, any excuse to miss work on Friday—but don’t worry, Mum. All three of us are purebloods, while Harry is a halfblood and the know-it-all is a muggle-born. Who are the men in the fancy chairs going to listen to, us or them?”

Ginny said, “_No worries_, Mum. With us three there, those two almost-muggles will never know what hit them.”

****

**An hour later  
In the sitting room of Longbottom Manor**

Neville, Luna, Harry and Hermione all were sipping a blood-red, elf-made wine.

Neville said, “So now when you two appear before the Wizengamot and the Chief Warlock tomorrow morning, it seems certain that Molly will be in the visitors’ gallery, waiting to pounce.”

Hermione nodded. “Right now, a horde of trolls couldn’t drag Molly away from attending tomorrow.”

Neville asked, “What are the odds that Molly will rope Ron and Ginny into attending the session with her?”

“I’d bet my Head of House vault on it,” Hermione replied.

Harry said, “They all three are purebloods. They think they can throw bombs at us from the gallery, without suffering a scratch.”

Neville, Hermione and Harry all grinned evilly. Luna’s smile showed teeth, like a goblin wielding a sharp axe.

****

**Friday morning, 8:00 a.m.  
In the Wizengamot chamber**

Hermione was sitting in the visitors’ gallery. Up in the visitors’ gallery with her were Molly, Ron and Ginny, all of whom were smirking at Hermione; and Healer Luna Longbottom, who was clutching several parchment-rolls to her bosom and who was smiling dreamily. Hermione knew that people underestimated Luna whenever she smiled like this.

Ron was wearing the dress-robes version of his Auror First Class uniform. _Whom is he trying to impress?_ Hermione wondered.

In the press box were a man in brown robes and Parvati Finch-Fletchley, each with a dicta-quill ready to write. Parvati winked at Hermione.

Seated below the visitors’ gallery and the press box were Lord Cyrus Greengrass (the Chief Warlock), Lord Arthur Weasley, Lord Draco Malfoy, Regent Longbottom and Lord Potter-Black, amongst others. All of them were dressed in their Head of House best robes that included a family crest.

Hermione also was dressed in Head of House expensive robes with crest, like the Wizengamot seat-holders below; and Hermione was clutching something to her breast, like Luna. What Hermione was holding pressed against her, so that the confident Weasleys could not see it, was her Gringotts-generated genealogy that proved she was entitled to a seat in this chamber.

****

**Seconds later**

Chief Warlock Greengrass pounded a gavel, made some announcements, then asked, “Is there any old business before this chamber?”

Silence.

Chief Warlock Greengrass asked, “Is there any new business before this chamber?”

Harry raised his wand and lit it. When the Chief Warlock recognised him, Harry said, “Chief Warlock and my fellow colleagues, I draw your attention to Miss Hermione Granger, up there in the visitors’ gallery. She holds genealogical proof that she can reclaim the voting seat of the dormant House Dagworth-Granger.”

Greengrass said, “Miss Hermione Granger, come before us and present your proof.”

Hermione descended the steps from the visitors’ gallery, sat down in the witness chair, and handed her parchment to the clerk. Hermione glanced up at the fuming Weasleys in the visitors’ gallery; she smirked.

Ron yelled down, “If she _is_ a bloody Head of House, then I’m entitled to the property and the money!”

Hermione smiled. “Not so, dearest Ronald. I didn’t claim Head of House until _the day after_ I declared my divorce from you. So you don’t get even one green knut out of my new vault. Lord Potter-Black was there when I was given the inheritance test; he shall confirm everything I say.”

Harry stood up and said, “I confirm Lady Dagworth-Granger’s statement. And just so everyone is clear: It was _I_ who on Tuesday, offered to pay for the Gringotts inheritance test.”

Molly yelled down, “Any so-called ‘inheritance test’ that shows Hermione Granger is anything more than a _mudblood_ is a fraud and a fake! Tell her, Arthur!”

Arthur Weasley raised his wand, lit it and, when he was recognised, stood with obvious reluctance. “Chief Warlock, I question whether this genealogy is authentic.”

Harry’s reply was, “I paid for the inheritance test, I saw Miss Granger give blood, and I saw black, blue and green names appear on a blank parchment. Chief Warlock, if the parchment you hold says that Miss Granger is descended from Charles Dagworth-Granger through his squib son, and descended from Ramses Malfoy through _his_ squib son, then the document you hold is authentic and trustworthy.”

Hermione glanced over at Draco Malfoy—he looked astounded.

Chief Warlock Greengrass declared, “The dormant seat of Dagworth-Granger has been reclaimed. Clerk, please lead Lady Dagworth-Granger to her seat.” Greengrass banged his gavel.

The clerk opened the waist-high door that led to the seat-holders’ seats, and held the door open for Hermione. Then the clerk led Hermione to an empty desk and an unmarked high-back chair. Yet now the chair no longer was unmarked—the Dagworth-Granger crest was embossed on the headrest. As for the desk, now a “Dagworth-Granger” nameplate lay upon the desk.

****

Right after Hermione took her seat in the Wizengamot, Draco Malfoy lit his raised wand and requested to speak. As the Chief Warlock granted Lord Malfoy’s request, Hermione glanced over at Harry and Neville. Their puzzled expressions showed that they had no more idea of what Draco was about to say than Hermione herself had.

Draco left his seat to walk down to the lectern. He eyed the seat-holders, beginning with Hermione, then Draco spoke in a practised voice—

“Colleagues, during the Second Voldemort War, Bellatrix Lestrange tortured Lady Dagworth-Granger, our new colleague. I refuse to tell you the nature of this torture, which happened right in my own home of Malfoy Manor; this is our new colleague’s story to tell. But I could not escape the thought that day, and I cannot escape it now, that had their situation been reversed, this woman amongst us would not have tortured Lestrange in that way—indeed, the thought would never have entered Lady Dagworth-Granger’s head. Bellatrix Lestrange the pureblood was not a _better_ sort of witch than all muggle-born witches; no, Lestrange was an _animal_, who debased herself to follow—as many purebloods followed, as _my own father_ followed, as _I_ followed, to my shame—a half-blood, psychotic, cruel _fraud_.”

Hermione heard shouts of outrage in the chamber.

Unbothered, Draco continued: “My father, Lucius Malfoy, taught me, ‘Pureblood wizards and witches are better than everyone else.’ But I do not teach such a _disgusting_ idea to my son Scorpius, and this woman who joins us today is the main reason why.”

Hermione again heard shouts in the Wizengamot chamber; Draco ignored the shouts.

Draco looked at Hermione and said, “Lady Dagworth-Granger, I apologise now for my schoolboy mistreatment of you, and I welcome you to this chamber as a full colleague. I do not offer you alliance, however; I usually vote with the Pureblood faction, but I expect that you shall vote differently than I.”

Hermione nodded.

“To my other colleagues, I say, ‘Have no fear that she will embarrass us.’ Lady Dagworth-Granger was my year-mate at Hogwarts, in the same House of Gryffindor as Regent Longbottom and Lord Potter-Black.” Draco chuckled. “All three of us Lords can assure the rest of you that, now that she is a Head of House, Lady Dagworth-Granger will search _every book in the world_ to learn how to be a great Head of House and a great Wizengamot seat-holder.”

As Harry and Neville laughed, Hermione stood and did something she never _ever_ expected to do: She faced Draco Malfoy and dropped a curtsy.

Hermione did not, however, publicly apologise for slapping Draco’s face, back in third year.

****

When Draco left the lectern and sat down, Chief Warlock Greengrass asked, “Is there any other new business?”

Hermione raised her wand and was recognised. She stood and said, “Chief Warlock, on Monday I declared a divorce against my husband, Ronald Weasley, who is one of the redheads up there in the visitors’ gallery. Immediately 75 percent of my magical core was bound, I lost all of the marriage’s assets held jointly, and I lost custody of our two minor children.”

Hermione glanced up. The evil Weasleys were grinning at her with shark-like smiles, Luna still was smiling dreamily, and Parvati looked worried.

Hermione continued, “Chief Warlock, wizarding law allows for two grounds for contesting a divorce and thus shifting the misfortune to the ex-spouse: adultery and potioning. I publicly declare that I suspect my ex-husband, Ronald Bilius Weasley, of cheating on me, and I will prove today that he _potioned_ me!”

As Hermione finished throwing down the gauntlet, she thought, _I hope I haven’t badly miscalculated_.


	8. Friday, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of you who’ve read the previous chapter probably were floored when I wrote Draco Malfoy, of all people, giving a speech that said “You go, Hermione!” Well, guess what, the idea was a surprise to me too, when I first thought of it. But upon further reflexion, the idea made perfect sense.
> 
> First, let me say two things up front. One, I don’t buy into the DRAMIONE ’ship at all. I think Draco at Hogwarts had some kind of crush on Hermione, which he did not know how to express, but Hermione felt nothing but loathing towards Draco. Secondly, I still think that Draco at thirty-seven is more evil than good; all I’ve done is to continue the process that JKR started, of increasing what little good is in Draco’s soul.
> 
> Teenager Draco was unable to bring himself to kill Dumbledore. Whilst cowardice explains part of Draco’s unwillingness to kill the headmaster, I think that Draco hesitated to kill Dumbledore because Draco realised: _Dumbledore did not deserve to die_. Similarly, when Bellatrix tortured Hermione by cutting “MUDBLOOD” into her arm, Draco realised, _Hermione did not deserve such treatment_. Hermione was not merely some nameless muggle-born, or probably Draco would have overlooked her torture; no, Hermione was a muggle-born whom Draco had attended years of classes with, so Draco _knew_ Hermione. Draco knew that Hermione did not deserve what Bellatrix gave her.
> 
> Yet by the rule of “Purebloods are better than everyone else” that Draco had been taught by his father, the inescapable logical conclusion would be that there was _nothing at all wrong_ with a muggle-born being tortured, simply because she was a muggle-born.
> 
> When Bellatrix tortured Hermione, Draco saw a conflict between pureblood logic and his conscience. Surprisingly, it was his conscience that won this battle. I believe that the hour that Bellatrix carved _that word_ into Hermione’s arm was the hour that Draco rejected the “Purebloods are better” teaching.
> 
> The other thing, I believe, that changed Draco’s beliefs after Hogwarts, was seeing how Harry Potter was treated after the Battle of Hogwarts. Forgotten by the wizarding public was “Harry Potter is the Heir of Slytherin” and “Harry Potter is a coward who tried to avoid participating in the Tri-Wizards Tournament.” No, after 1998, Harry Potter was the wizard who _fought Voldemort one-on-one and killed him_. After the Battle of Hogwarts, I’m sure Harry Potter was _golden_—everyone wanted to be near Harry Potter, to hear his words, and to bear his children. Meanwhile, after the battle of Hogwarts, _nobody_ wanted to be near Draco, to hear his thoughts, or to have sex with him. It would have been humbling to Draco to realise that the only reason that anyone had _ever_ acted nicely to him at all was because they feared Draco’s father, the big man—and when Draco’s father no longer was a big man, Draco was treated like any other whiny, cowardly, conceited bully.
> 
> Even more humbling to Draco would be the realisation that a year after he died, he would be completely forgotten; whilst a hundred years from now, bronze statues of Harry Potter would be standing about Wizarding Britain, with flowers and coins left at the statues’ feet.
> 
> Furthermore, bronze Hermione-statues might well be standing next to those bronze Harrys.
> 
> So the cunning thing for Draco to do now would be to make amends with Hermione _before_ she realises the power she holds.
> 
> So now in 2017, Draco tries to make amends with Hermione; his motives are a mixture of atonement and expediency.

**Within the Wizengamot chamber, amongst the seat-holders**

Still standing up, Hermione said, “Chief Warlock, wizarding law allows for two grounds for contesting a divorce and thus shifting the misfortune to the ex-spouse: adultery and potioning. I publicly declare that I suspect my ex-husband, Ronald Bilius Weasley, of cheating on me, and I will prove today that he _potioned_ me!”

Chief Warlock Greengrass said, “I will hear your case. Please sit down in the Witness Chair closest to the centre.” Which was also the Suspect Chair closest to the centre; but for witnesses, the chains on the legs and arms of the chair would not wrap around the person who was sitting in the chair. Greengrass continued, “Lady Dagworth-Granger, I must warn you that whilst you are contesting your magical divorce, you shall not be treated as a seat-holder in this chamber. I shall address you, and refer to you, as ‘Hermione Granger.’ ”

Hermione said, “This is acceptable, Chief Warlock.” As she was bending down to unlatch the waist-high door, Molly yelled out from the gallery, “BE SURE SHE MAKES A VOW! MUDBLOODS HAVE LOOSE MORALS, SO THEY LIE A LOT.”

Hermione sat down in the Witness Chair, then raised her wand and lit it. “A point of order, Chief Warlock. Whilst at this time I am here as a divorce-petitioner, not a seat-holder, is it acceptable behaviour for someone in the visitors’ gallery to insult someone here with a _racial slur?_”

“No it is not!” Greengrass said. He looked up and glared at Molly. “Mrs. Weasley, I command you to show decorum with your words and _speaking volume_, or I shall eject you from this chamber. _Am I clear?_”

Molly muttered an apology and a promise to behave. Molly caved, Hermione knew, because _no way_ would the loud, ginger-haired cow miss out on what she expected to be Hermione’s and Harry’s public humiliations.

Greengrass then turned his attention back to Hermione. Hermione gave her “I won’t lie during today’s testimony” vow; then Hermione told her story, beginning with Monday morning when she woke up to a blinding headache.

“...Then Healer Longbottom told me that the reason I was feeling so ill was that I had Love, Loyalty and Indifference potions in my body, I had been re-dosed with those potions for twenty years, but now the potions were wearing off.”

The Wizengamot chamber was silent; even the very nervous Weasleys in the gallery were silent. Hermione glanced over at Arthur Weasley; he looked shocked.

Greengrass asked, “Why do you think the potions were wearing off, after twenty years of them working as they should?”

Hermione said, “I suspect that _some lazy person_”—she glared up at Ron—“waited too long to re-dose me. But the _lazy person_ never got his chance to re-dose me, because by then I was enjoying the protection of Longbottom Manor.” Hermione smiled at Neville.

Greengrass asked, “What proof do you have of your claims?”

“I have no proof of my claim of adultery; only that three people told me that Ron was seen in public with the buxom blond witch Fuchsia Brown. No, those two aren’t coworkers.”

Ron gasped.

Hermione continued, “As for my claim of being potioned, Healer Longbottom dicta-quill’d a detailed written record when she examined me. She is up there in the visitors’ gallery with the parchment of my examination.”

Greengrass looked up at the visitors’ gallery; Luna was looking down at him with a dreamy smile. Greengrass said to her, “Healer Longbottom, come down here and take the second Witness Chair.”

****

**Two minutes later**

Luna was saying, “...I detected in Hermione Weasley’s body, degraded Love, Indifference and Loyalty potions. Following standard procedure, for each potion I recorded every HMST—that means Hufflepuff Magical-Signature Text, an alphabet-soup string of ten letters that represent a magical person’s unique magical signature. But immediately I noticed something odd.”

“What was odd about Hermione Weasley’s potions?” Greengrass asked.

Luna replied with a dreamy smile and a guileless voice; Hermione knew that nobody in the chamber would even _slightly_ suspect that Healer Longbottom was working a hidden agenda to crush her friends’ ex-spouses. Now Luna replied, “Those three potions should each have had _three_ magical signatures: one for the person brewing the potion, one for the person to be affected, and one for the person to whom the potion is keyed. But for each of the three potions, the HMST of the potion-brewer was ten _X_’s—the potion-brewer had hidden his or her magical signature.”

“Do you know how such a thing can be done, Healer Longbottom?”

“No, I don’t; such a thing is not taught at Hogwarts, even in seventh year. Perhaps someone with a mastery in Potions would know,” Luna said helpfully.

Molly Weasley had a mastery in Potions, Hermione knew—and probably other people in the chamber knew this fact as well.

Greengrass asked, “Can you tell us anything else about the potions that were given to Mrs. Hermione Weasley?”

Luna said, “By good luck, I was able to examine Harry Potter the same day I examined Mrs. Weasley; and I discovered that the HMST for Harry Potter _exactly matches_ the HMST of the magical signature that Hermione Weasley’s Indifference potion was keyed to. In short, Hermione Weasley was potioned to be indifferent to Harry Potter. Also...”

It took a full minute before Luna could speak more, because her previous announcement evoked such loud talking in the chamber.

Wearing a dreamy smile, Luna continued, “Also, whilst I was waiting in the visitors’ gallery, I secretly measured the HMSTs of my three former neighbours, the Weasleys. Chief Warlock, if you would indulge me a moment?”

Molly Weasley started to bluster. Chief Warlock Greengrass shot out his hand toward her, with palm facing forward in a _Stop_ gesture, before Molly had said three words. Molly instantly quieted.

Meanwhile, Luna had drawn her wand and had called out, “_Accio_ HMST parchment!” From a corner of the chamber, a short (half-foot) parchment flew into Luna’s hand.

Still smiling dreamily, Luna said, “Chief Warlock, if you would indulge me a little more?” Hermione’s medical-examination parchment that Luna held, had been bookmarked with a pink ribbon; Luna opened that parchment and compared whatever was written there with what was written on the short parchment.

Luna looked up and smiled at everyone in the chamber—seat-holders, reporters and the evil Weasleys. Luna said, “It’s official. The Love potion that on Monday morning was in Mrs. Hermione Weasley’s body was keyed to Ronald Weasley.”

****

**One second later**

Molly yelled, “You can’t do that, examining us without our knowledge. It’s against medical rules!”

Luna replied calmly, “I didn’t examine you. I can’t say whether you’ve ever had broken bones, or if any of you has dragonpox now. I only recorded your HMSTs.”

Luna added, “Molly, I took your HMSTs to gather medical evidence of a possible crime. Healer-rules allow me this.”

Greengrass asked, “What is the possible crime?”

Luna showed her guileless smile again. “I _did_ mention, didn’t I, that Monday evening I examined Harry Potter? I found _seven_ potions in him.

Greengrass choked. “_Seven?_”

Harry Potter thrust his lit wand up then. When he was recognised, he said, “Chief Warlock, I ask that you judge my divorce-petition against Ginevra Weasley at the same time that you judge Hermione Granger’s divorce-petition against Ronald Weasley. The two petitions share common facts.”

Ron Weasley called down from the visitors’ gallery, “Meanwhile, so what if I _did_ slip love-potions to Hermione? Potioning a mud—a muggle-born is legal.”

Greengrass reluctantly agreed. “And I have never questioned such an oversight, but now I am beginning to.”

Greengrass raised his voice. “Lord Potter-Black, please take the third Witness Chair; I remind you that you temporarily lose your privileges as a seat-holder. I shall address you, and refer to you, as ‘Harry Potter.’ ”

****

**A minute later**

Luna was saying, “...Harry Potter’s Doormat potion from twenty years ago was brewed by someone other than the three Weasleys I scanned today, and was keyed to an unknown person. Mr. Potter and I suspect the potion-brewer was Severus Snape; and Mr. Potter and I suspect the potion was keyed to Albus Dumbledore.”

This news was met with a few murmurs in the chamber.

Luna continued, “Harry Potter’s six recent potions all had the HMST of the potion-brewer masked with ten _X_’s. I cannot say for certain whom the Loyalty potion was keyed to, but Harry Potter and I suspect that the Loyalty potion was keyed to the Weasley family.”

As people in the chamber murmured at this, Hermione glanced over at Arthur Weasley. He looked horrified.

Luna smiled dreamily, then shoved a scalpel into the reputations of three Weasleys: “The three recent Doormat potions in Harry Potter’s body were keyed to Molly Weasley, Ron Weasley and Ginny Weasley. Mr. Potter’s Indifference potion was keyed to Hermione Weasley. His Love potion was keyed to Ginny Weasley-Potter.”

_Bang!_ Chief Warlock Greengrass pounded his gavel once, then he pointed an angry finger up into the gallery. “_Aurors, arrest those redheads for the crime of potioning a Head of House. Arrest the redhead women for a second charge: Line Theft!_”

As Aurors poured in through the visitors’ gallery rear doors, Molly Weasley yelled, “YOU CAN’T PROVE A THING! WE’LL WALK OUT OF HERE BEFORE THE END OF THE DAY, YOU WATCH!”

Greengrass laid a silencing charm on the evil Weasleys and on the Aurors arresting them; the visitors’ gallery went silent. Then Greengrass looked at Arthur Weasley and asked, “Lord Weasley, do I have permission for the Aurors to search your house for evidence of illegal potion-brewing?”

Arthur looked up at his wife, who was looking back at him and was clearly yelling at him, but no sound was heard. Arthur then looked at Greengrass and sighed. “Permission granted.”

A Senior Auror pointed to two other Aurors, then all three Aurors rushed out of the chamber.

Chief Warlock Greengrass banged his gavel again. “Hermione Granger, I find that you were potioned in your marriage, to the benefit of your ex-spouse, Ronald Weasley. I lift the 75-percent magical block from you and place such a block on Ronald Weasley.” Greengrass flicked his wand.

In the visitors’ gallery, Ron, who was surrounded by unfriendly Aurors at the moment, opened his mouth in a muted scream and collapsed to the floor.

Hermione, meanwhile, _felt_ her magical binding disappear. It felt like four people who were giving Hermione too-tight hugs, suddenly released their holds.

Greengrass continued, “Hermione Granger, I grant you custody of your minor children. All monies and real properties that were held jointly in the marriage, I now transfer to you, even those now held singly by Ronald Weasley.”

“_Shit_,” Ron mouthed from the gallery.

Greengrass banged his gavel again, and made a similar pronouncement for divorce-petitioner Harry Potter. Harry got the Potter ancestral properties back, the House of Potter millions of galleons back and was awarded custody of his children; whilst Ginny was stuck with the 75-percent divorce-binding.

****

Chief Warlock Greengrass said, “Lord Potter-Black, Lady Dagworth-Granger, please take your seats. Healer Longbottom, you are excused.”

Then Greengrass banged his gavel. “_Bring out the three accused!_” Aurors brought out Molly, Ginny and Ron—Ron still was dressed in his Auror First Class dress robes—and plopped the redheads into the chairs that Hermione, Harry and Luna had just left. For the redheads, however, the chairs’ chains wrapped around the Weasleys’ arms and legs, holding the evil redheads in place.

Greengrass announced, “Normally in criminal trials, a seat-holder is appointed to study the evidence and to act as prosecutor. Since evidence is scanty and still is coming in, any seat-holder present may question the accused.”

Molly looked at Harry and Hermione and sneered, “You can’t prove anything against us. So you were potioned? So be it. But can you prove any of us three slipped you a potion? Can you prove any of us brewed a potion? No, you can’t.”

“Actually,” Hermione said, “three days ago, Ron tried to force me to drink a blue potion at wandpoint; our son Hugo was a witness. Also, Hugo complained that the air in that room had a strange smell.” Hermione grinned at Molly.

Greengrass asked, “The strange smell did not affect you, Lady Dagworth-Granger?”

She answered, “I flooed into the house already wearing the French version of the Bubble-Head Charm. By the way, Ron tried to cancel the spell with _finite incantatem_, but those words didn’t work. Ron was surprised.”

Then Hermione looked at Ron, and grinned. “When you tried to potion me on Tuesday, my Head of House ring detected the potions. I understand that trying to potion a _Head of House_ is considered rude?”

“_Azkaban_-level rude,” Draco said to Ron, grinning widely.

Ron yelled, “_I didn’t know she was a Head of House on Tuesday!_ She sure _wasn’t_ one, two days earlier.”

Draco laughed. “I’m so sad for you, Weasley.”

Molly glared at Ron and said, “I want to _yell_ at you.” Thirty-seven-year-old Ron _cringed_.

Harry looked at Molly and Ginny. “Well, Ron can _forget_ seeing sunshine again. As for you two, once some Veritaserum is dropped on your tongues—”

Ginny laughed at Harry. “All three of us are _purebloods_, moron.”

Molly grinned at Harry. “The law says Aurors and the Wizengamot can’t give Veritaserum to a pureblood without his or her permission. Do we look stupid enough to _give_ that permission, when the sentence is life in Azkaban?”

Arthur Weasley said timidly, “Avoiding Veritaserum isn’t right, Molly. We’re Weasleys; we _always_ tell the truth.”

Molly said, “Did I say you could speak, Arthur? _Be quiet_.”

Arthur hung his head. “Yes, dear,” he said.

Hermione heard the whispers of the seat-holders all about her: “The bloke’s been potioned.”

The three Aurors who had left earlier, now walked back into the chamber. The youngest of the three was carrying a cardboard box; the Senior Auror handed a parchment to Chief Warlock Greengrass.

Greengrass announced to the chamber, “A search was performed at the residence of Arthur and Molly Weasley, with the permission of Weasley Head of House, Arthur Weasley.” Molly turned her head and glared at Arthur.

Greengrass continued, “Potter Manor, which was then the dwelling of accused potioneer Ginevra Weasley formerly Potter, was searched. What was then the dwelling of accused potioneer Ronald Weasley, was searched. The results of those searches were as follows—”

Greengrass spoke louder: “No evidence of potion-brewing, legal or illegal, was found at the Ronald Weasley residence.” Ron looked relieved.

“No evidence of potion-brewing, legal or illegal, was found at the Ginevra Potter residence.” Ginny looked relieved, but Molly looked scared. Now it was obvious that whatever was in the cardboard box, came from her house.

Greengrass continued, “At the residence of Arthur and Molly Weasley, in a storage room off the kitchen, Aurors discovered a school trunk that was monogrammed “MP” and that was hidden inside a _Fidelius_ ward. Inside the trunk, Aurors found equipment for preparing potion ingredients and for brewing potions; curly black hairs in vials, curly brown hairs in vials, and four vials containing straight, red hairs. With the cutting boards, potion knives, cauldrons and vials, Aurors found ingredients for brewing calming draught, dreamless sleep potion, Skele-Gro, polyjuice, Love potion, Indifference potion, Loyalty potion, Doormat potion and Veritaserum.”

The Senior Auror spoke up and said, “Chief Warlock, we are in the process of determining the magical signatures of the six sets of hairs in vials.”

“Very good,” Greengrass said. “Do any of the accused, or do Lord Potter-Black, Lady Dagworth-Granger or Lord Weasley care to make a comment?”

Arthur was weeping now. “I knew nothing of _any_ of this.”

Molly said, “Maybe it was Arthur who brewed illegal potions at my house. Or my daughter-in-law Fleur brewed them. My son George also is good at potions. You can’t prove _I_ brewed those illegal potions.”

Hermione knew that the Wizengamot, when acting like a criminal court, required only that the evidence of a crime be “strongly suggestive,” _not_ “beyond a reasonable doubt.” Hermione suspected that Molly’s goose was cooked, but that Molly did not realise it yet.

An Auror First Class whom Hermione knew only from Yule parties, walked into the chamber and handed a parchment to the Senior Auror, then the new Auror turned to leave. Close to where Auror First Class Ronald Weasley was chained to his chair, the new Auror First Class stopped, looked Ron up and down and gave Ron a disgusted look. Then the new Auror left.

Meanwhile, the Senior Auror was announcing, “A search of the residence of Arthur and Molly Weasley found six vials with sets of hairs in them. Those sets of hairs have the magical signatures of Hermione Dagworth-Granger, Harry Potter-Black, Arthur Weasley, Ginevra Weasley, Molly Weasley and Ronald Weasley.”

Arthur stood up from his chair and desk, as he lit his wand. “Chief Warlock, may I directly address my wife?”

Greengrass said, “You may.”

Arthur pointed his wand at the ceiling. “I, Arthur Weasley, Head of House Weasley, declare my marriage to Molly Prewett Weasley to be ended. If I am being magically swayed or compelled, may this declaration be ignored. So mote it be.”

Arthur glowed brightly for a second; immediately afterwards, he screamed in pain as his magical core was 75-percent bound. Meanwhile, the three Weasleys in chains were staring at Arthur in horror.

_Bang!_ went Greengrass’s gavel. “Arthur Weasley, as Chief Warlock, I find that you were potioned in your marriage, to the benefit of your ex-spouse, Molly Prewett. I lift the 75-percent magical block from you and place such a block on Molly Prewett.” Greengrass flicked his wand.

Molly, who still was chained in place in her Suspect chair, screamed loudly.

Greengrass continued, “Arthur Weasley, all monies and real properties that were held jointly in the marriage, including ancestral properties, I now return to you.”

Then Greengrass said, “Now let us return to the criminal trial of these three accused potioneers. Again I ask: Do any of the accused have anything to say, or does anyone in the chamber have anything to say to the accused?”

Harry lit his wand, was recognised, and stood. “Ginny, tell me, why did you give me all these potions? Why have you cheated on me with other men? I gave you everything!”

Ginny sneered, “_Nice try_, Harry dear! It looks pretty sure that Mum is going to Azkaban, ditto Ron, but nobody can pin _anything_ on me, unless you use Veritaserum. Which, since I’m a pureblood, nobody can force me to take! So I’m not going to admit to a _bloody_ thing.”

Harry’s voice took on a _deadly_ tone that Hermione had heard only when Master Auror Harry Potter had been describing Auror raids on the most evil of wizarding criminals: “So this is your final word, Ginny? We can’t convict you of anything without your confession, we cannot make you confess, and you refuse to confess on your own?”

Ginny grinned at Harry, as Hermione seethed. “You bet. In the next few minutes, I will walk out of here a _free woman_—poorer, yes, and magically weaker, yes, but _free!_ And since I still have my looks”—Hermione snorted—“and I _know what men want_ but I also have _maturity_, within a year I’ll remarry, again to a wizard with a big vault.”

Harry said, “You claim you’ll go free because we’ve no proof of your crimes. Ah, Ginny, I know one way to _get_ that proof—”

Harry’s voice shifted from _dangerous_ to _formal:_ “Ginevra Molly Weasley, harken! I demand your payment in coin or service for your Life Debt to me.”

Hermione saw Ginny stiffen, and saw the redhead try to stand up straight like a soldier (but the chains prevented this). Ginny’s smug look of only seconds ago now was replaced by a frightened face.

Meanwhile, Harry was explaining to everyone in the chamber, “You have just heard me speak the ritual words to claim payment for a Life Debt. At the end of Ginny’s first year at Hogwarts, I saved her from being killed by the image of Tom Marvolo Riddle, a.k.a. Voldemort. Anyway, soon I shall speak the words to end the payment-claim ritual. Between now and then, I may investigate what is the best way that Ginny can repay me, so Magic shall _compel_ Ginny to answer my questions completely and honestly.”

Harry took a breath and said, “I’ve questions that I’ve been wondering about for _eighteen years_.”

****

Harry asked, “Do you realise that you might have been given fewer years in Azkaban if you’d confessed your crimes voluntarily?”

“Yes,” Ginny said. She was weeping now.

“Do you realise that if you had answered my questions voluntarily, I never would have called-in your Life Debt?”

“Yes. Now I feel like a fool.”

“You _are_ a fool.” Harry’s voice turned cold: “Did you ever brew a Love, Indifference, Loyalty or Doormat potion?”

“I’ve helped Mum brew Doormat potions many times, because Mum and I needed four doses of that potion every month.”

“So you brewed some Doormat potions, whilst your mother brewed all the other potions that were slipped to Arthur, Hermione or me?”

“Yes.”

“Ron didn’t brew any potions?”

Ginny laughed scornfully. “We needed for the potions to _work_.” Hermione saw Ron’s ears turn red.

“Who slipped the potions to Hermione?”

“Ron did, most of the time. Mum did, when Ron and Hermione were visiting the rest of the family.”

“Who slipped potions to me?”

“I did, most of the time. Mum did, whenever you ate at the New Burrow.”

“Who slipped potions to Arthur Weasley? And what potions was he given?”

“Mum has given Dad both Love and Doormat potions since I was six years old. And probably much earlier.”

“Now let’s talk about your cheating. Whom have you slept with, since you and I married?”

“_Merlin_, you expect me to remember all of their _names?_ Dean Thomas did me a few times, beginning a month after we married. I shagged Barnabas Yaxley last Saturday.”

“Do you regret _at all_ any of the things you’ve done that brought you here, to being put on trial today?”

“_Honest_ answer? No. Being married to you brought me fame, galleons and more galleons, a big house, and _parties_. Between the bad boys I’ve shagged, and you whilst under the Doormat potion, I’m sure I’ve had more orgasms in the past eighteen years than everyone else in Wizarding Britain. It amused me that you became quite skilled at licking me in fun places, even whilst you clearly hated what I made you do.”

“I see,” Harry said without emotion. He turned to look at Hermione, who was sitting elsewhere among the Wizengamot seat-holders. Harry’s look said: _If I nuke Ginny, will you still love me?_ In reply, Hermione gave Harry a cold smile and drew a finger across her own throat.

Harry turned back to face Ginny. “Ginny, you carried out this whole big scheme so that you could marry well. Because you are divorced, theoretically you are free to _again_ marry well. _No_, not happening, I shall _prevent_ such a thing. Ginevra Molly Weasley, in payment for your Life Debt to me, I demand the following—

“You shall never brew a potion again. Your hands shall never even _touch_ a potion again, even to treat your own ailments. Also, anytime anyone seventeen or older, whether man or woman, pays you a silver sickle, you are his or hers to command sexually for sixty minutes thereafter. The sexual acts you will be compelled to perform shall include: live sex shows, anal sex, oral sex including anilingus, and vaginal sex. This shall be your payment for your Life Debt, so mote it be.”

For a second, panicked-looking Ginny glowed yellow.

Harry smiled coldly at Ginny and said, “Now, Ginny-Winny, nobody will buy the cow because they can get the milk for a sickle.”

****

To Hermione, it was anticlimactic when the Wizengamot seat-holders voted five times, then all three evil Weasleys were sentenced to life in Azkaban. Because Molly was convicted of _two_ counts of Line Theft, she was sentenced to life in Azkaban _in solitary confinement_.

****

As soon as the Wizengamot session ended, Hermione stood up from her plush chair, turned around, and locked eyes with Parvati in the press box. By gestures, Hermione sent the message of _You. Me. Harry. We talk_.

This took a while, because _everyone_ in the Wizengamot chamber wanted to speak with the crow’s-feet version of the Golden Duo. But eventually Parvati was standing in front of Harry and Hermione.

Parvati gushed, “You weren’t kidding, Hermione! Tomorrow’s _Daily Prophet_ will be _amazing_ to read.”

Harry said, “Here’s something else that will be amazing to read: Hermione and I”—Harry reached over and took Hermione’s hand—“will marry soon.” He pulled two Potter betrothal rings out of a pocket of his robes, slipped the smaller betrothal ring on Hermione’s finger, then put the bigger betrothal ring on his own hand.

Parvati _squealed_, then exclaimed, “_This is brilliant!_” She hugged Hermione, then hugged Harry.

Draco Malfoy walked up then, with his hand out to shake. Hermione saw Harry, unlike twenty-six years ago, shake Draco’s hand. The blond man said, “Congratulations, you two. Want to grab some lunch? Arthur, Neville, Luna and Parvati, you lot are invited too.”

The other seat-holders, plus Luna, led Hermione and Parvati to the Executive Dining Room, which was on Level Five of the Ministry of Magic. Minutes later, while the other five were deep into a discussion of “Magicproofed computers, are they a fad?”, Parvati leant over and said to Hermione, “You are grinning like a fool.”

Hermione said, “Of course I am. My mind is clear, I’m free of a bad marriage, and I’m a Head of House.” Hermione waved her right hand, with its potion-sensing ring, for several seconds. “Being Head of House gives me some nice coin, but mainly it grants me a seat in the Wizengamot, where I have a _vote_ and a _microphone_.”

Draco asked, “What’s a ‘microphone’? That’s a muggle thing, right?”

For answer, Hermione smiled at Draco, as she reached over and put a hand on Harry’s arm.

Hermione turned back to Parvati and said, “But the thing that has me _quite_ happy, dancing-in-my-head happy? I’m going to marry _Harry Potter_, the best man to come out of Gryffindor Tower since Godric Gryffindor himself.”

Parvati said, “So for you, all is well.”

“Better than that: all is _bloody brilliant_.” Hermione’s grin lit up her face.

****

It was in the Executive Dining Room, during dessert, during a discussion with Arthur and with Draco, when Harry and Hermione casually kissed.

Such was the depths of their longstanding friendship that neither Harry nor Hermione realised that this was their _first_ kiss.

Everyone at the table _gasped_ when the kissers _glowed_.

**THE END**


End file.
